Journey to Forever
by fyd818
Summary: RononTeyla, SheppardWeir. AU. How far would you go, how many rules would you break, to change the past and make the future right? 2007 Stargate Fan Awards fanfic Nominee!
1. Lifeline

Disclaimer: I don't own "Stargate: Atlantis." I am in no way trying to make a profit off this story, I am merely writing it and posting for my and other people's enjoyment.

Synopsis: RononTeyla, SheppardWeir. AU. How far would you go, how many rules would you break, to change the past and make the future right?

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence, character death (not permanent), some kissing

Pairings: Ronon/Teyla John/Elizabeth (eventually)

Spoilers: **Siege**; **Runner**; **Sateda; Trinity**

Title: _ Journey to Forever_

Author: fyd818

Part 1/24

**Dedication**: To **Dia**, who is a never-ending fountain of support, good ideas, and never-ending friendship. You're so awesome, girl. Thank you!

**Special thanks** goes to my fantastic beta, Mama Jo, without whom this "Journey" never would have made it to where it needed to go. Thank you!

Author's notes: When I originally wrote "Journey," it turned out rough and hurried. Both I and my beta felt that it had potential, so we have gone through and revamped the entire fic while (we hope) still keeping the feeling and expression of the old. I hope you enjoy this polished version of "Journey"—and thank you for reading!

**Journey to Forever**

by

_fyd818_

**-Chapter 1-**

_Lifeline_

Glass. For the past three months glass had separated them and her, but today would be the last day for that.

After this, it would be six feet of dirt.

Lieutenant-Colonel John Sheppard stuck his hands in his pockets and stared down into the isolation room below him. "Beckett said how much longer it's going to be?" he asked the man slumped in the chair next to where he was standing.

Ronon Dex didn't move his gaze from Teyla Emmagan's still form, now sustained only by the breathing tube down her throat. "Probably another twenty minutes or so."

John nodded morosely. "What else did he say?"

Ronon finally looked away from Teyla and up at Sheppard. "That all hope is gone now. But I suppose we knew that three months ago, didn't we?" There was a bitter edge to his tone: it had been there ever since Teyla had been put in isolation with severe burns to eighty percent of her body and massive internal injuries. It had grown worse early the previous morning when Beckett had declared her brain-dead and gently suggested she be taken off life-support. Ronon had stormed out of Beckett's office, and hadn't left the observation room since. His hair was even more of a disheveled mess than normal; he looked like he hadn't slept in days (which he hadn't); and there was a tiredness in his eyes that John hadn't seen since first meeting him.

"Yes, we did," John agreed quietly. "Ever since the explosion." He rubbed his eyes with his hands, trying to get rid of the images in his head: of the explosion, the floor quaking beneath his feet; of the fire roaring and heating his skin; of Elizabeth's lifeless body, bruised, bloody, burned. . .

He muttered a curse, shaking his head sharply to dispel the images. "Rodney says he's not going to come. He doesn't want to be here when Teyla. . . When Beckett takes her off life support."

This time it was Ronon's turn to nod, a small motion of understanding. He didn't say anything; he just continued to stare glassily at Teyla.

The silence stretched for a long uncomfortable time. Ronon finally broke it by saying, "I guess I need to let the Athosians know. They said the last time I was over there that they'd get a place ready for her to be buried."

John glanced at Ronon. The Athosians had hoped, like all of them on what was left of Atlantis, that she'd recover. But when it became apparent she wouldn't, they had pretty much appointed Ronon to be their new leader in Teyla's place. It was as though they just naturally assumed that it had been what Teyla would want—which was probably true.

"Okay. I'll take you over. . .after."

Ronon nodded, and then their attention was drawn to the door below, which had opened. Doctor Carson Beckett, Atlantis's chief surgeon, entered the isolation room. He looked up at the two men in the observation room, sharing a quiet moment of grief and understanding with them; then reached out and quietly disconnected the breathing machine.

John closed his eyes as the last few beats of the heart monitor registered; faltered; turned to one long, single tone. Just as Carson silenced the machine, he heard the door behind him slam shut as Ronon left.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	2. A Day of Mourning

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 2/24

**-Chapter 2-**

_A Day of Mourning_

Rain drizzled across the small clearing on the mainland where Athosians and Atlantians alike stood clustered around the new grave placed in the exact center. The cold wet day perfectly matched the mood of the people gathered around the gravesite to say a final goodbye to Teyla.

John stood next to Ronon, equally watching the Athosian funeral proceedings and the emotions playing across the tall Satedan's face. His jaw, locked in an attempt to hide his emotions, twitched every now and then. But no matter how little his facial expression betrayed, his eyes were the proverbial windows to his soul, showing just how much grief and anger he was feeling.

Sheppard turned his gaze back to the grave, shrugging his shoulders a bit to nudge the collar of his coat closer to his neck. The miserable rain weeping down from the skies was doing nothing to help the chill down his spine, one he hoped he would soon be able to get rid of.

A few feet away from him, the Athosian elder leading the funeral service bowed his head and began speaking in the Ancient language, something John assumed to be a prayer. He ducked his head but paid little attention, his mind spinning and working even as he looked like he was paying perfect attention.

One of the reasons why he was blocking out the ceremony was because he'd already stood through one of them, and hadn't wanted to suffer through another. But here he was, standing next to Teyla's grave, his gaze straying every now and then to the small headstone a few feet away: Elizabeth's.

Next to him, Ronon made a small, anguished noise in his throat. He began to turn, but John reached out a quick hand, grabbing his arm in an iron grasp. "Don't," he said softly, so only the Satedan could hear. "Stay. . .for her." He tipped his head towards Teyla's grave just to make sure Ronon knew what he meant.

That muscle in Ronon's jaw twitched again, but he silently turned back to face the grave. He latched his gaze onto it, his broad shoulders rigid with frustration and anger.

The ceremony ended a few minutes later. One by one people walked past the grave, pausing next to it to bow their heads in respect before walking off towards the Jumpers waiting to take the Atlantians back to the city. That left only John and Ronon alone there. Both men solemnly stared at the grave in a moment of shared grief.

Sheppard glanced at Ronon, gauging the expression on his face. He walked forward and knelt next to the grave, bowed his head, and whispered: "You were a good friend and mentor, Teyla. Thank you." He didn't say anything else; he just stood, looked at Ronon one more time, and then walked over to Elizabeth's grave.

Every time he was on the mainland he visited her grave: not out of a sense of duty, but for reasons he couldn't yet explain. He knelt in front of the headstone and, with his fingers, traced the name engraved into the cold stone. Closing his eyes, he rubbed them with his free hand, trying to forget the last time he'd seen her alive, yet at the same time wanting to hold onto the memory.

He'd kissed her. He wasn't quite sure why he'd done it; maybe because something deep inside him had told him he probably wasn't going to see her again. Even now, three months later, he wondered if he'd done it simply in the heat of the moment or if the feelings in his heart had made him do it. Funny: he'd always known she was a beautiful woman, but it wasn't until they were in mortal danger that he kissed her.

One kiss, one that was no doubt going to haunt him until the end of his days.

John looked up and away from Elizabeth's grave, towards Teyla's. Ronon's face reflected the confusion John felt. He'd wondered if Ronon felt the same way about the petite Athosian as John had about Atlantis's leader.

An idea occurred to him, and the slightest smile curled the corners of his lips. _That might just work. . ._

_**-Atlantis-**_

Doctor Sylvia Peterson was as qualified, on paper, to run Atlantis as Elizabeth Weir had been. But she had found the adjustment to leading the city as hard for herself as it was for everyone else. Doctor Weir had been a much-loved leader in the city, and Sylvia knew that everyone viewed her as the woman attempting to replace Elizabeth. That couldn't be farther from the truth. She didn't want to replace the other woman and knew that she couldn't. She was merely attempting to fit in, in her own way, and work as well as possible.

Sylvia paused at the open hatch of Jumper One, waiting for Colonel Sheppard to finish whatever he was doing in the front and come out. When he did, she fell into step with him and spoke softly. "Suitable weather they were having."

John sent her a guarded look, as though wondering why she was bothering with small talk instead of getting straight down to the point. "Yes, it was." Subtext: _What's your point?_

She was used to the colonel's direct way with her; he liked getting matters settled quickly and then going back to whatever else he'd been doing. More recently, he'd been acting distracted and distant around her, which confused her. "I know that Teyla Emmagan was a good friend of you and your team. I'd like to offer you, Doctor McKay, and Specialist Dex a few days off before you return to your off-world activities."

Sheppard turned his head to look at her without breaking stride, a cautious expression on his face. "I'll talk to them."

That distracted look was back in his eyes. Sylvia wanted to call him on it but chose not to. "Thank you, Colonel." She paused at the bottom of the steps leading from the Jumper bay to deliver one last comment. "I wish there were some way we could get them back, Colonel. But we can't. Just—just take however long you need to let go."

The colonel smiled wanly and walked away from her. Sylvia watched him go, then sighed and shook her head. She hadn't known John Sheppard for very long at all, but something was telling her he was a man she should keep her eyes on, because she could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

He had a plan.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	3. A Daring Plan

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 3/24

**-Chapter 3-**

_A Daring Plan_

John leaned against the edge of Rodney's lab table and watched the scientist tinkering around with the large, metallic thing taking up the majority of the table's surface. "So, Rodney, is it what we think—hope—it is?"

McKay looked up with a slight glare, his fingers still busily at work deep inside the machine's guts. "I'm not sure yet," he said. "It seems to have a number of functions."

Sheppard didn't let Rodney's somewhat negative attitude dampen his spirits. "So it could be a breadbox, and it could be. . ."

McKay held up one finger abruptly. "Don't say it! We can't let anyone else know what we think this could be, or then we'd never be able to get anything done, let alone execute our plan."

John moved across the lab and perched on a stool, looking around at all the instruments and objects strewn around among coffee cups, MRE wrappers, and energy bar wrappers. He made a face. "Before I say what I came here to say, how can you work like this?"

Rodney looked up with another glare. "What _exactly_ are you suggesting?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. It's just a little. . ._cluttered_ in here is all."

"I know where everything is. Isn't that what matters?" He looked up and poked around what room was left on his table. "Now then, where'd I put that scanner?"

John disguised his snort of amusement behind a cough, earning him a "drop dead" look from Rodney.

McKay found his missing scanner and returned to the Thing's innards. "Now then, what are you here to say?"

Obviously Rodney was in a hurry to get rid of him. "I'm thinking about letting Ronon in on our plan."

"What—_ouch_!" Rodney yelped and backed away from the machine, clutching his hand and doing a rather interesting little mad dance of pain. "Are you crazy? We don't even know if it's going to work! Not that Ronon can't keep his mouth shut, he hardly talked before. . .well, you know, but he's downright stone-silent now! But that's not the point. We can't just go inviting people along to join our plan, or else we'll never be able to do anything if I do get this thing to work!"

"You are going to get that thing to work, and it is what we're hoping it is. Ronon can keep his mouth shut, and he would be a fantastic asset," John said, ticking off the items on his fingers. "Look, Rodney, you know him. You saw him at Teyla's funeral. You've seen him these past three months. How can we _not_ invite him along?"

McKay mumbled an epithet. "Yes, how could I miss the look? You and he seem to be looking in the same mirror lately."

That caught John's attention. "Excuse me?"

Rodney leaned his hands against the edge of his lab table and looked John dead in the eye. "Don't play dumb, Colonel. If you've been trying to hide the fact that you miss Elizabeth more, and in a different way, than the rest of us, you're doing a poor job of it. I recognize the look on Ronon's face as the same one on yours. You loved Elizabeth, didn't you?"

John ripped his eyes away from Rodney's piercing gaze. "I don't know," he said uncertainly. "I think I might have, but. . ." He growled a curse and ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know, Rodney. I-I kissed her, right before I headed off for the chair room. It was the last time I saw her alive. I don't even know why I did it, but I did." He also had no idea why he'd just told Rodney his biggest, darkest secret, but in a way he did feel better now.

McKay went back to fumbling around with the Thing. "Have you told Doctor Peterson about this?"

"The kiss? Duh, of course not. Why would I?"

Rodney looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "No, not the kiss! Why would you think that? I meant about the Thing." He tapped it with the end of a screwdriver.

"Oh, that. She knows about it, of course, the report passed her desk. But she doesn't know what we think it is, or that you're desperately trying to figure out how to use it, if it is what we think it is." John slid off the stool and headed for the door. "Are we going to tell her? Leave her a note or something, at least?"

Rodney nearly choked on his coffee. "Good grief, you make it sound like we're going to commit suicide or something."

"Of course I didn't mean it that way! All I'm saying is. . .she's trying to be nice, she's having trouble fitting in, and maybe she deserves at least a note. This affects her, too, even if we're trying not to think about it that way."

McKay squinted at him. "You're getting soft in your old age, Sheppard."

"Oh, shut up." John left Rodney's lab and headed to the gym. He had a feeling the person he was looking for would be there.

_**-Atlantis-**_

Ronon pummeled the punching bag before him with endless rage, angry at the Wraith, the Ancestors, himself. . .heck, he was mad at the whole galaxy. Might as well go in for the whole boatload while he was at it; after all, what else did he have to lose?

"You going to keep up until the stuffing's beat out of it; or until you run out of energy?"

Ronon didn't look up when Sheppard spoke from the doorway. "Doesn't matter. Whichever one comes first."

"Didn't miss a beat. You are mad." John pushed off the doorjamb where he'd been leaning. He stopped a couple of steps inside the gym, well out of reach of Ronon's fist and the swinging punching bag. "Look, Ronon, when Elizabeth died, I wanted to go out and kill every Wraith out there. That didn't help any, and neither did beating the crap out of a punching bag. I'm not saying I feel much better now, because I don't, but mentally beating _yourself_ up isn't going to make things better. It's going to do nothing but give you a headache and make you feel even worse."

"I should have been there." _Wham_! "I should have kept her from going." _Wham_! "I should have known it was going to happen," _wham_! "it was glaring me right in the face," _wham_! "and I didn't even see it." _Whoosh_!

The punching bag exploded into a flurry of stuffing. Ronon deflated as well, his fists falling to his sides and his broad shoulders slumping with them. "I just. . .should have known."

"There's no way you could have known any more than I could have, or anyone else." He took a step closer, grasping what was left of the punching bag and stopping its back-and-forth swinging motion. "But let me ask you a question, Ronon: How far are you willing to go, how many rules are you willing to break, to make it all right again and get her back?"

Ronon looked at John, a cautiously curious expression in his eyes. "What are you saying?"

A small smile curled up the corners of John's lips. "Rodney found what we think _might_ be a device that can transport people back in time. He's not sure if that's what it is yet, and he's still trying to figure out how to work it. But if he figures it out and that's what it is, we're planning on going back in time and stopping this from happening." He locked eyes with Ronon and issued his final challenge. "So, are you with us?"

Ronon only had to think about it for a moment. Then his lips quirked in a smile to match John's, and he nodded. "Yeah. Count me in."

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	4. Suspicion

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 4/24

**-Chapter 4-**

_Suspicion_

Sylvia wasn't the type to nose into matters that neither pertained to her nor ones she wasn't invited into. But she couldn't help feeling the slightest bit of curiosity about what the three men sitting at the most secluded table in the cafeteria were discussing. They certainly weren't just eating a meal together. Their food was mostly untouched, and the expressions on their faces were of the utmost seriousness and concentration.

She looked away from them, scolding herself for being so curious. Granted, if something underhanded was being planned she should know about it. Yet those men were three of her most trusted personnel. Perhaps they were merely reminiscing about old times and speaking of their lost friends, Elizabeth and Teyla.

Sylvia had only met Elizabeth Weir once, briefly in passing, at the Pentagon. She had seemed like a levelheaded, respectable woman. From all she'd heard from members of the Atlantis expedition, she had been an exceptional leader and absolutely perfect for the job she'd had for a regrettably short time. She didn't dispute that; Doctor Weir had run a well-oiled ship, and Sylvia found that the cohesion was still very good. She herself just wasn't fitting in too terribly well at the moment.

A strand of dark hair had fallen free of her braid. She absently tucked it behind her ear before reaching for her cup of Athosian tea, once more turning her gaze from Rodney, Ronon, and John to the data pad she held in her hand. She tried to concentrate on the next day's duty roster to make sure that everything was right and evenly distributed; but her eyes kept wandering to the three men. They just had that look about them, the look that they were _planning_ something. What, she had no idea, just _something_.

Sylvia gave herself a mental slap, forcing her attention back to her data pad. They were just having a serious conversation, that's all. Nothing suspicious going on, just a little sad sharing of memories of when times were better.

If that were true, why couldn't she convince herself of it?

_**-Atlantis-**_

"She's watching us again."

Ronon's flat, simple statement made Rodney clam up again. The Canadian scientist thumped his stylus against his data pad, his eyes going wide.

"Don't react!" John hissed. "You'll make her think we're planning something."

"We are planning something," Rodney growled back under his breath. Ronon nodded in agreement.

"No point advertising it, though. You're the one that wants to keep this such a huge secret. I'm not saying we should tack it up in huge red letters on the bulletin board or anything. All I'm saying is if you keep acting so jumpy, Doctor Peterson is going to know something is up; then she's going to start poking around whether she's in the habit of poking or not. And I'd prefer to have the Thing working and be gone before she figures us out."

Rodney sighed and picked up his stylus. "You're right. I just. . .want everything to go perfectly. If we even get the timing the _least bit_ wrong. . ."

"I know. This is our only chance for this." John was painfully aware of that fact. It haunted him in his dreams, both waking and sleeping. "That's why we keep going over this, to make sure we have everything right and even have a plan for the totally inconceivable."

McKay groaned softly. "Then why are we talking about this in such a public place, again?"

"Not suspicious here," Ronon mumbled into his water glass. "It would be, if Sheppard and I were suddenly spending all our time in your lab. Besides, we're teammates. Eating lunch together is normal." He didn't say what everyone was thinking: at least it _had_ been, before the Wraith came, and Teyla and Elizabeth had been killed.

"How close are you to figuring out the Thing?" John asked. He wished they knew what it was so they could stop calling it that.

Rodney quickly chewed and swallowed the bite of food in his mouth, then hefted his data pad. "I'm closer, at least. It's definitely not a breadbox. I think it serves a number of different purposes."

"So it could be a time machine?" Ronon asked, voice low, a glint of something unidentifiable in his eyes.

"It could be," Rodney sighed, as though giving up on trying to keep them from getting their hopes up.

John gathered up what was left of his lunch and returned it to his tray. "Okay. Let me know when you come up with something else, no matter how minute it seems."

McKay looked at him in obvious surprise. "Wait a minute, where are you going?"

John looked grim. "To run a little bit of interference with Doctor Peterson. And surreptitiously find out just how much she suspects."

_**-Atlantis-**_

_There's a chance._ Ronon blinked and rolled over, staring out his bedroom window at the star-blanketed sky. _There's a chance that I can save her._

Hope. It was the first thing Ronon had lost when Beckett listed off Teyla's many injuries. The last thing he'd ever expected was a chance to get her back. But now? Now he had hope again: hope that there was a way to save Teyla; to get her back; finally to tell her. . .

What? Ronon rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed. That he loved her? Perhaps that was too strong a word, particularly since he had no clue if she had felt the same way. One giddy, albeit rather passionate, kiss under the stars on the mainland during an Athosian Harvest Festival did not count as love. She was so different than him, perfect in every way. She knew his faults; she'd seen him at his best and at his very worst. Knowing that, how could she ever love him?

But how could he not go back and try, either way? Maybe she didn't love him. If she didn't, he was still going to save her. Watching her lie in the isolation room with nothing but machines keeping her alive was too painful, too awful a memory to have to live with for the rest of his life. Like the memory of when he'd first pulled her from the blazing rubble, her beautiful face and flawless skin burned and torn.

Standing by Teyla's grave during her funeral, he'd considered leaving Atlantis, at least for a while. When Melena was killed, he'd vowed never to stop until every Wraith was dead. That desire still burned deep inside him, unquenchable and unyielding. But knowing Teyla had given him another, more positive, reason to live. Without his consciously realizing it, she'd brought healing to his heart. And even though his heart had been ripped apart again, somehow hope, in the form of John Sheppard, had managed to gain a toehold there. Maybe—just maybe—they could go back, save Teyla, keep her from dying such a slow, painful, lonely death.

It was possible now. He knew it. And it was like Sheppard said: no matter how far he had to go, no matter how many rules he had to break, he was going to get Teyla Emmagan back.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	5. Nightmares

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 5/24

**-Chapter 5-**

_Nightmares_

_The entire city rocked with another explosion. Atlantis's inner alarms let loose with a new, mournful wail that could barely be heard over the cacophony. He grabbed whatever surface was closest to steady himself and pressed onwards. Thick, caustic smoke burned his eyes and lungs and ripped coughs from his throat, but he couldn't stop, not until he found her._

_Not until he knew. . ._

"_Elizabeth!" His voice cracked and failed; he had to clear his throat and cover his mouth to try to get a halfway clear breath before trying to yell again. "Elizabeth!" All around him, other members of the rescue team were sifting through debris, frantically searching for survivors. This entire part of the tower was threatening to tumble into the ocean, but John couldn't leave until he found the one person he was looking for. . ._

_He almost tripped over a Marine, not having seen the young woman through the smoky haze. He leaned down and lifted debris off her, recognizing the odd angle of her leg as a broken bone. He didn't see any blood, though, and counted that as a good sign. That gave him a little hope. "Just hang on," a quick glance at her uniform gave him her name "Lt. Gregory." He waved for someone to come over. "The med team will have you out of here in no time, okay?"_

_She nodded and coughed. He moved on again, shoving through shattered panels and fallen supports, continuing to call Elizabeth's name. A brief flash of red caught his eye almost halfway across the room. He headed towards it, almost tripping twice in his haste to get there. "Elizabeth!"_

_The flames were creeping closer; the uncomfortable level of heat was making him sweat. He coughed again, rasping oxygen and smoke in equally, and quickly identified what was trapping her. Adrenaline lent him superhuman strength, allowing him to free her petite body from the rubble._

"_Elizabeth. . .oh. . ." His voice was a hoarse whimper when he saw her. Even as he reached for the pulse point on her neck he knew she was dead, that he was too late._

_That he'd failed her._

_There was blood everywhere. She was so badly burned he could only hope was that she had died instantly when the explosion hit, that she hadn't felt any pain or panic before she died._

It should have been me!_ The thought screamed through him as he gathered her as carefully as he possibly could into his arms. As he headed towards the exit Lorne's choked voice carried to him: "Ronon's got Teyla, sir, and that's the last of them! We need to go, now!"_

_The wall not ten feet behind him collapsed into the ocean in a blazing inferno. Cool ocean air rushed across his back. The outside air fueled the flames. They roared higher, rushing dangerously close to him as he ducked and stumbled his way back through the room towards the door and safety, Elizabeth's dead form cradled protectively in his arms._

_And all he could think as he struggled towards his own safety was: _I failed her. . .

The wetness trickling down his cheeks made John finally wake from the nightmare he'd lived through. He moaned and rolled over to bury his face in his pillow; his heart twisting, breaking, the jumble of emotions so powerful they were a physical pain.

_I failed her. I let her down, and she died all alone without my ever telling her I loved her. Stupid, stupid, stupid. . ._ He covered his head with his hands, trying to hide from the guilt, and the pain, though he knew it was hopeless. During the day he could hide his pain from himself, and everyone else; but at night it all came crashing back to him. All the nightmares, all the emotions. . .

He was drowning. That was the only way to explain it: he was drowning in his own emotions. He couldn't save himself. The one person who could was dead, the one he was trying to save.

_Elizabeth, I am so sorry. . ._

_**-Atlantis-**_

In previous years, Ronon had found watching the lights of Atlantis reflecting in shifting patterns on the surrounding ocean very soothing. But on this night he found no comfort in the view from this isolated balcony where he came to mourn. There were too many dark areas bearing silent witness to the devastation left after that terrible Wraith attack. So many areas were beyond repair.

The missing lights reminded him, too, of other losses; of the areas in his heart and soul that were irreparably darkened. Ronon rested his forehead against his raised knees, his eyes clenched shut against the painful images burned into his mind like a hot brand.

_Fire everywhere, screams of pain._

"No. . .no, not again. . ." He didn't want to relive it. He didn't want to see it all again, for it to play out in his head, to have to watch Teyla die again! He couldn't do it anymore, it was too painful.

Yet he couldn't stop it from playing out in his mind _again_. . .

_Behind him, he could hear Sheppard yelling for Elizabeth. He ignored him, stumbling his way through the smoke and debris towards the lone figure lying half-buried under rubble from the ceiling._

"_Teyla!" He coughed, the caustic smoke around him burning his lungs. He fell to his knees next to her, pushing away the debris pinning her down. He swallowed back the fear in his throat. There was so much blood everywhere, and her body was so badly damaged from the fire. . ._

"_I'm so sorry. . ." He couldn't help the husky whisper that left his abused throat._

_Her eyes slitted open, squinting at him in painful but obvious recognition. "Ronon. . ." She coughed weakly. Blood bubbled and trickled from the corner of her lips._

_He swallowed hard. The pain in her voice almost overwhelmed him. "Teyla, I'm so sorry I wasn't here." He was afraid to touch her in case he hurt her more, but he had to move her. "I'm sorry, but I have to. . ." he helplessly gestured._

_She nodded, gritting her teeth and locking her jaw against the pain as he gently as possible lifted her into his arms. He headed for the exit, and safety. Off to his right, he could vaguely see Sheppard kneeling beside Doctor Weir's body. He felt a sharp stab of grief through his fear for Teyla. The look on the man's face clearly said that Atlantis's leader hadn't survived the explosion._

_Ronon swallowed hard. He headed as quickly as he dared for the infirmary, wanting, _needing_ to get Teyla there as fast as possible so she wouldn't suffer the same fate._

"_Ronon. . ." Her voice was soft into his neck. He consciously had to force himself not to curl his arms tighter around her in automatic protection._

"_I'm here," he responded._

"_Continue the fight, Ronon," she whispered, her warm breath the barest brush of air across his throat._

_He knew what that meant. "Teyla, no! Hang on, please, you're going to be okay. . ." Maybe if he said it enough times, thought it hard enough, it would have to be true._

_Her breath hitched. Ronon nearly stopped breathing himself. Then, quietly: "I'm sorry, Ronon."_

_He swallowed, nearly choked, and suddenly couldn't breathe. Something inside him went dead, as though Teyla had already died. All he wanted was to save her. He would be willing to do anything to assure her more breaths, more life, but he knew he couldn't._

_So with the last of his courage, he whispered the only thing he could: "I'd give it all, Teyla, if only it were me. . ."_

_But she'd already slipped into the black, cloying oblivion of coma. He didn't even know if she'd heard him._

Ronon covered his head with his hands and did the only thing he could do.

He cried.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	6. The Plan Comes Together

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 6/24

**Dedication**: This chapter is dedicated to **leelakin**, who made me an awesome cover for this story. Thank you so much!

**-Chapter 6-**

_The Plan Comes Together_

"Well, it's about time!" John leaned against the edge of Rodney's worktable. He pointed a finger at the Thing, which had just been confirmed to be a time-travel machine. "What took you so long to figure that out?"

Disgruntled, McKay tapped the outer casing of the time machine with the handle of his screwdriver. "This isn't exactly a baby's rattler, Colonel. It's a very precise piece of Ancient technology."

John's eyes lit up a little. "Yeah?"

Rodney waved one hand. "I really wish you'd stop doing that little thing you do whenever you think something is a really big space gun." He turned to include Ronon in the conversation. The tall Satedan was lurking in the back of the room, his arms crossed and an exhausted look on his face. Apparently he hadn't slept any better the night before than John had. "I can say with certainty that it _is_ indeed a time travel device, and I know how to make it work." He paused, staring at the Thing, a hesitant look on his face. "There's just one hitch."

John scowled. He should have known: there was always a hitch. "Yeah? And what would that be?"

Rodney looked up at him, concern and a slight hint of regret in his eyes. "It will only transport two people back through time. There is a very precise computation that has to be inputted into the device before it will activate, and someone has to do it manually. There's no, ah, time delay." Before John could even open his mouth to say anything, Rodney held up his hand. "I volunteer to stay. Before you say anything, you know it's better this way. Who better to work this thing than me? Besides, I'm not that good in a fight situation. Someone needs to stay here, in the future, I guess you'd say, to run interference with Doctor Peterson, and explain what happened when you two suddenly disappear."

John knew Rodney had a point. Some secret, dark part of him was grateful that the scientist had volunteered to stay. Still, it made him feel a little bad to leave McKay to take the heat. "Are you sure. . .?"

McKay snorted derisively. "Are you kidding?" He smiled a little nervously, eyes darting back and forth among Ronon, John, and the Thing. "Truthfully, uh, the thought of time travel freaks me out a bit. It's a very complicated process, one that I both fortunately and unfortunately understand in extraordinary detail."

John held up his hand. "I get the feeling those are details I don't want to hear about. All I need to know is, is this going to work or not?"

Rodney squinted at the Thing. "There's always a slim chance it won't, but I'm fairly confident you won't pop out back before the city was flown here."

"Rodney!"

"It'll work." He quickly amended his comment, a weak smile curling his lips. "I'm sure of it."

"Good." John tapped his fist on the lab table and grinned. "Then I do believe it's time to do some final planning."

_**-Atlantis-**_

Ronon checked his blaster and left his quarters without a backwards glance. He headed towards McKay's lab. It was 0230 Atlantis time, the window of least activity in the city. He, McKay, and Sheppard had all decided that was the best time to activate the time device and make the jump. Discovery would be less likely than during the day when all the scientists (and even, upon occasion, Doctor Peterson herself) could potentially descend upon the lab.

His steps faltered when he approached Teyla's quarters. It had only been a few days since she'd died. So far no one had disturbed her quarters to pack up her things to take back to her people, though he knew a few people had gone in to leave items in memory of the Athosian woman.

Glancing over his shoulder guiltily to make sure no one was around, he swept his hand over the door controls, slipping inside as soon as they were far enough apart to step through. He paused, barely hearing the door slide shut behind him as he looked around. Something deep inside him whispered that he was, technically, invading Teyla's personal space, but he ignored it.

A dresser stood against one wall; four or five candles sat on top, along with a small wooden box. The box's lid was open, revealing a few bead necklaces tangled together. The bed was neatly made, the loose pants and top she slept in folded up neatly and placed at the foot of the bed. A small bouquet of wildflowers from the mainland, long wilted, sat in a small green glass vase in the center of the bedside table. Ronon swallowed hard when he saw them, remembering the night he'd given them to her—the same night he'd kissed her.

Moonlight trickling in through the glass windows gleamed off something laying on the nightstand next to the vase. Ronon silently crossed the room to look more closely.

The gleam came from a necklace of earth-toned beads. Pain struck his heart at the sight of it and he closed his eyes. He recognized it. He'd given it to her for her birthday. Her birthday and the Harvest Festival falling on the same day had made it even more perfect; in fact, he'd given her the necklace right before he kissed her. He opened his eyes again and noticed something leaning against the vase. He reached out and picked it up, tilting it to catch the moonlight.

It was the picture Sheppard had taken of them during the Harvest Festival. During the grief-numbed days since then, he'd forgotten about it. The moonlight leached all colors and most details from the photograph; but it didn't matter. Memory overwhelmed him. He was _there_ again. He felt Teyla's shoulders under his arm, felt the warm, slender strength of her against his side. He saw the daring sparkle—oh, how he missed it!—in her eyes as she smiled up at him. Her new necklace caught the bonfire's light, the colors taking on even warmer tones from her glowing skin. He could even smell the flower she'd taken from his bouquet and tucked into her hair. He remembered feeling happy, so nearly at peace. . .

Fresh grief surged up, drowning the moment in the memory of Teyla two weeks later: burned, bloody, dying. Ronon's jaw clenched and his hands started to tighten into fists. The feel of the picture in his right hand stopped him; his gaze focused on the moon-dimmed image.

It seemed to dare him to hope again. Maybe she didn't have to endure that pain; maybe she didn't have to die. He drew in a deep breath and, with it, resolution. Tucking the picture into his pocket, he turned on his heel and left the room.

This time, he would be there. This time, he would save her.

_**-Atlantis – Present Day-**_

Rodney looked from the Thing to Ronon and John, standing side-by-side in front of the Ancient device. Both men looked resolute, a grim determination in their eyes.

John met McKay's look and nodded. "We're ready, Rodney. And thanks."

McKay smiled thinly. "Yeah. Just—you two be careful." He inputted the code required to send them back to when they needed to go. He looked up at the ceiling, brought his gaze down to move rapidly around the room. "And—uh—good luck."

John closed his eyes and filled his lungs with air, waiting for something, he wasn't sure what, to happen to him. He heard McKay say, "Transfer in three. . .two. . .one. . ." His ears popped suddenly and painfully. A bright red light exploded behind his eyelids. His body started falling through space, making him feel like he was pulling heavy Gs in that F302 again.

Then, as abruptly as the ride had started, it stopped, leaving his ears ringing. The light faded away. His feet were once more planted on solid ground.

_Please be right. . ._ Hope and a small bit of fear that something had gone wrong warred in his heart as he slowly allowed his eyes to drift open.

A small, involuntary sound escaped his throat because green eyes were staring at him in shock and curiosity from only a few feet away. Those clear jade eyes looked at him out of a beautifully sculpted face framed by curly dark hair.

"_Elizabeth_!"

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	7. Past and Present

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 7/24

**-Chapter 7-**

_Past and Present_

"We made it!" Perhaps not the most intelligent words that John could have said; but it was the truth, and boy, was he glad.

Elizabeth, an Elizabeth alive and well again, looked at him as though he'd lost his marbles. "Excuse me?" She was giving him the eyebrow of doom: the raised eyebrow that she always gave him when he was in trouble. She shifted her gaze from him to Ronon.

It occurred to John that they were in Rodney's lab only a split second before McKay's head popped out from behind the Thing. "Got it!" he said. "I think it just transported someone to. . ." He stopped, staring at John and Ronon. "Wait a minute. What are you doing here?"

John couldn't seem to get his thoughts unstuck from the reality of Elizabeth's presence. Ronon had to bump him sharply with his elbow before he was able to form any coherent words. "I-- Uh, it's a long story. I don't suppose there's somewhere more suitable where we can talk."

Concern began to moderate the severity of Elizabeth's expression. She tipped her head to one side and opened her mouth to speak.

The lab doors swished open. John Sheppard and Ronon Dex strolled in, Sheppard saying, "Thought we'd find you here. You guys up for lun—"

If the reason behind their situation hadn't been so grim, John would've found the expressions on his and Ronon's counterparts' faces—not to mention Elizabeth's and Rodney's—hilarious. But these next few minutes were too fragile for humor.

The tableau held for only seconds. Predictably, Dex (John made a split second and arbitrary decision to refer to their past selves by their last names) broke it by snatching for a gun he wasn't wearing. Elizabeth took two hasty steps backward, reaching back to steady herself against a workbench. Sheppard instantly placed himself between her and their perceived threat. McKay, after a gabbled "Butbutbut—" dove for his laptop, currently interfaced with the Thing.

Matters were rapidly moving to the bad side of out-of-control. John carefully raised his empty hands out away from his body. When Ronon didn't immediately copy his gesture, he jabbed an elbow into the Satedan's diaphragm to get his attention; then jerked his chin in a "do it!" motion. Ronon slowly lifted his hands.

John attempted his most ingratiating smile. "No need to get hostile, folks," he said. "Would it help if I said 'we come in peace'?"

Dex took a couple of threatening steps forward. Elizabeth said sharply, "Ronon, stop!" Dex halted, but still managed to give an impression of a big cat on a thin leash.

Sheppard leaned forward, scrutinizing John warily. "He looks like me," he said. "He even _sounds_ like me."

McKay raised his head and swept them all with a wild-eyed gaze. "Um, maybe because he _is_ you."

Weir rounded on him. "What? What are you saying, Rodney?"

The scientist gulped and squared his shoulders. "Ah, well, you remember I thought this was some sort of transfer device, maybe a-a prototype for the site-to-site transporters used in the city." He ran his hands over his head, as though he was having trouble with what he was about to say. "I just analyzed the data from the recent transport. Elizabeth, it doesn't transfer site-to-site but _time-to-time_. They're from the future. It's a _time machine_!"

Stunned silence followed McKay's pronouncement. John broke it. "See, Rodney?" he said, and nodded at the Thing on the lab bench. "Flux capacitor."

_**-Atlantis – Past-**_

"Well, this is going really well so far." Ronon flung away from the window to pace restlessly across the room and back. "It's been _how_ many hours now that we've been locked up in here?"

John, stretched out on one of the two cots, shrugged. "At least we're not in the real lockup," he replied. "And we knew Beckett would have to run DNA tests on us. That takes some time."

"Too much time," Ronon growled. "The Wraith are coming." He leaned against the window frame again, relapsing into moody silence.

It wasn't much longer, maybe half an hour, when the sound of many footsteps approaching brought John to his feet and Ronon to stand beside him. Voices murmured outside; the door slid open.

"Oh, geez, that's weird," John muttered to Ronon as he watched himself enter the room, Elizabeth and the rest of the team right behind him. When his teammate didn't respond, he glanced his way.

Ronon's eyes were locked on Teyla, his gaze wistful and sad. John looked away guiltily, those feelings finding a ready echo inside him. He himself wanted very badly to pull Elizabeth into his arms and kiss her. He smothered the desire. Instead, he cocked his head to one side and said, "So, guys, what's the verdict?"

Elizabeth stepped past Sheppard, glancing from him to John. She—and all the others—looked a little unsettled. John totally sympathized. "Carson's tests confirm that you are indeed John Sheppard and you," she nodded at Ronon, "are Ronon Dex. Rodney's further examination of the data from the device—"

"We just called it the Thing," John murmured.

Elizabeth's chin and eyebrow both went up. "—From the time travel device indicates you traveled back from a point about four months in our future. Incredible as it may seem, we have to accept and deal with that fact." She no longer looked unsettled, but focused, a leader intent on handling a hard situation. "So, having said that, why _are_ you here? Was it accidental," a swift glance over her shoulder forestalled any comment from McKay, "or did you come for a reason?"

John cleared his throat. He'd known none of this was going to be easy. But now that the moment was really here, his throat wanted to close up so he wouldn't have to say the words.

"Three months, two weeks, five days." Ronon's deep voice came from John's left, intoning the words like a knell. His eyes were hooded, his face impassive as always: except for a single muscle twitching in his jaw. Everybody was staring at him now, especially Dex and Teyla. The Athosian woman's lips parted, as if she were about to speak.

John's voice came unstuck. "We came for a reason." All eyes immediately switched back to him. "A very specific reason. We came to change our past, so our future—and your future—will be made right."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute." McKay thrust his way to the front of the group still standing by the door. His face and tone were the ones he used whenever someone had screwed up royally, and was about to get it big time. "Surely the me of the future pointed out what an incredibly bad idea this is. Changing _anything_ in the past could have unbelievable repercussions on—"

John flung up one hand; to his surprise McKay stopped talking. "Yeah, Rodney, we did go all through that. And we decided the risk was worth it."

He should've known it wasn't going to be that easy. Rodney threw up his arms. "Worth it? What could _possibly_ be worth endangering our entire timeline, _which_ you have probably already messed up a million different ways just by _being_ here, and I would never agree—"

"McKay!" Ronon's voice cut through Rodney's tirade like a shot from his blaster through a paper target. He didn't move, but pinned the scientist with such a look, McKay automatically stepped backwards. "If you'll just shut up for two minutes, we'll explain why we're here. _And_ why even you agreed."

Rodney, looking very insulted, drew breath to continue the dispute. Elizabeth, ever the peacemaker, intervened. "Yes, Rodney, perhaps we should let them explain," she said calmly but implacably. McKay got the message. He shut his mouth and folded his arms; but the look he gave John said very plainly, _This had better be earth-shatteringly good_.

"Thank you, Elizabeth. Three days from now—" His voice broke as a flashback hit, and John suddenly saw Weir not as she was, but as she soon would be. _No! No! Won't be, won't be!_ The denial was instant and fierce, but he realized he would never get through this if he looked at her. Instinctively, he switched his gaze to Sheppard, knowing he had to convince his earlier self of the urgency, the danger.

"Three days from now," he said directly to himself, "you'll pick up the signals of five Hive ships approaching Atlantis. Six hours later they'll arrive and begin bombarding Atlantis. Two days after that the shield will fail and there'll be a massive explosion in the city. Many will be injured and almost as many will be killed, including—" He could feel the intensity building in Sheppard, knew the exact instant comprehension kicked in, the man's mind leapfrogging ahead to the terrible words he still had to say. "—Including Dr. Elizabeth Weir."

And John knew he had Sheppard's total agreement and commitment; even before the tiny acknowledging nod and tightening of the facial muscles. Only then did he allow himself to look back at Elizabeth.

She looked as rattled as he'd ever seen her. Everybody except Ronon was staring at her in varying degrees of shock; not even Rodney found anything to say. "I. . ." She stopped, equally at a loss for words.

For the first time since she'd entered the room, John took a couple of steps towards Elizabeth. Sheppard made no move to block him. It hurt to see her so shaken and disturbed, but not as much as seeing her dead. "That's why we came back," he said. "Please, _please_, believe me. You're all in danger. If you don't do something to stop it, a lot of people are going to die, a lot of people will be maimed for life. And Atlantis as you know it will never be the same."

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	8. Decisions

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 8/24

**-Chapter 8-**

_Decisions_

Elizabeth composed herself with a visible effort after John's bombshell. "All right, everyone: conference room, now." She touched her headset, passing the order on to Beckett and Zelenka. As the Marines on guard duty outside the room started to fall in with them, she shook her head. "Thank you, dismissed." Nothing else was said until everyone had settled into places around the conference room table.

As John took a seat at Elizabeth's left, he saw that Sheppard had taken the place to her right. He took a quick glance to see how the rest of the seating arrangements had shaken out. Interestingly enough, the two Ronons had placed themselves as far apart as possible on opposite sides of the table.

"So, Colonel," Elizabeth said, sitting very straight in her chair. "Atlantis is destroyed?"

"Not completely." John nervously clenched his hands together, feeling a little like a bug under a microscope. Everyone except Ronon was staring at him. "There were few towers left standing. EM radiation knocked out most of our Earth-based technology, so for a while it did seem like. . ."

Rodney butted in. "Whoa, wait a minute, EM radiation? How did you get that from a Wraith attack?"

"Rodney, allow him to finish." Elizabeth neither raised her voice nor removed her gaze from John. "Colonel, please continue."

John let out a soft breath. "It was how we managed to save the rest of the city from being destroyed. The _Daedalus_ arrived from Earth right before the attack began, but the bombardment by the Hives eventually left it dead in space. They couldn't use their hyperdrive or sublight engines. Colonel Caldwell ordered Hermiod to rig the Asgard hyperdrive to overload, hoping the explosion would be powerful enough to take out the Hives. They used maneuvering thrusters to nudge themselves into position. The shockwave destroyed the Hives, but the accompanying EM pulse knocked down our computers for days."

Rodney looked a little green. "I always wondered how powerful the explosion of an Asgard hyperdrive would be. I guess now I know."

Radek shoved his glasses up his nose. "I think I know where you're going with this. When _Daedalus_ arrives from Earth to help us, we dismantle their hyperdrive and somehow get it into a Hive ship after rigging for an overload. Then we get _Daedalus_ out and blow up the Wraith before they have a chance to begin siege." The Czech looked to McKay. "It's brilliant."

Rodney began shaking a finger at no one in particular. "Yes, yes, I think that may just work. It will leave _Daedalus_ stranded; but with the Intergalactic Gate Bridge it shouldn't be too much trouble to get another hyperdrive out here to install in the ship. They can use their sublights to leave right after we take out the Asgard hyperdrive, and that should give them plenty of time to get away before we overload." He looked at Radek, then to John. "My, that is brilliant!"

John was already shaking his head. "You're not understanding what I'm saying. We _can't_ deprive the _Daedalus_ of its hyperdrive engine. They're going to need it to execute the _real_ plan."

McKay narrowed his eyes, looking insulted. "Oh, really, Colonel. And what would the _real_ plan be?"

John cleared his throat. "We'll keep the hyperdrive as plan B. Plan A involves the Thing – ah, the time travel device."

Zelenka's eyes widened. "You mean it is also weapon?" He got a reverent look on his face at the thought.

John tugged at his black wristband. He looked at Ronon, who had sat in stony silence so far. The big Satedan shrugged his shoulders slightly as he returned John's glance, then refocused his gaze on the tabletop.

Okay, apparently he was going to have to say it all himself. "No. Not a weapon. But our McKay was able to do a lot of extensive tests on in it in the four months after Atlantis was wrecked. He's pretty sure it can be _used_ as a weapon."

Elizabeth let out her breath and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the tabletop. "The time field."

Rodney snapped his fingers. "Of course. Genius! Time travel takes a _lot_ of power. So, theoretically—"

"—If we can somehow cut off energy flow to capacitors controlling the time travel part of device—" Zelenka interrupted, but Rodney cut him off before he could finish.

"—We channel that energy into an overload, destroy the Hives and save Atlantis!" Rodney's voice rose to a fever pitch. "That's it!"

Zelenka deflated. "No, Rodney, wait."

"What?" Teyla and Dex said at the same time, both looking lost.

Radek pushed his glasses up again. "You know Ancients were sticklers for failsafes. There is probably one embedded in the device to activate a time jump, keep it from overloading and exploding." His narrow shoulders slumped.

"Pfft." Rodney sniffed derisively. "No problem at all. We'll just have to disable the failsafe and prevent it from activating the time travel part of the device."

"It's not that easy." All eyes turned back to John—again. "As I said, the Rodney in our time has done a lot of studying of the Thing. There's a failsafe for the failsafe. It's like you—he—said: time travel is serious business." He raised his hands helplessly at McKay's sour look. "I can't help it. The Ancients wanted to make absolutely sure that everything worked the way it should."

"That's why no one should mess around with time," McKay grumped. "No one should _have_ to deal with such problems, let alone me."

Elizabeth folded her hands, eyebrow arching upwards. "Are you saying that this is beyond your abilities, Rodney?"

McKay scowled darkly. "No, of course it's not! I am just saying that time travel is like Pandora's Box. It's something that should _never_ be opened."

"And that brings us to a point raised earlier that needs further discussion." Her gaze moved around the table, pinning each person present for a brief second. "Do we have the moral right to alter the future? Yes, granted, the timeline has already taken some damage, but I hope I am correct in saying the damage is currently localized in Atlantis. Not to denigrate either your effort or your intent, Colonel, if we proceed with this plan the future of at least two galaxies will be impacted. I'm not sure I can even imagine all the repercussions. I'm not sure I want to."

John tiredly rubbed his eyes; he felt Ronon go rigid beside him. "We understood going into this that we would be changing history. _This is worth the risk_." He looked straight at Elizabeth, even though it took all his willpower to keep his heart out of his eyes. "Look, it's not just that this is our home now. Atlantis is the Pegasus galaxy's last hope for defeating the Wraith, and keeping them from Earth and the Milky Way. We have to do this for the _future's_ sake."

"I'm not sure I can just stand back and let the Wraith win." Sheppard spoke for the first time from the other side of the table. "And that's what we would be doing. Where's the morality in letting Atlantis be almost destroyed when we have the chance to stop it? We have to do this, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's expression continued to show signs of inward struggle for a long moment as she stared down at her hands, locked together on the tabletop in white-knuckled intensity. It seemed everyone else in the room was holding their breaths.

In a decisive movement, she placed her hands flat on the table and rose to her feet, showing them a face which now held only determination. "Very well, people," she said. "You heard him -- them. Let's go save Atlantis."

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	9. Confusion

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 9/24

**-Chapter 9-**

_Confusion_

As late afternoon faded into evening, John left the mess hall and went in search of Elizabeth. What he was going to say once he found her he wasn't sure; he just needed to see her again.

She was exactly where he'd expected her to be: standing on the balcony off the control room, her elbows leaning on the railing, her gaze fixed on the horizon. She still looked concerned and unsettled. John sighed inwardly as he ventured outside. "Elizabeth?"

She turned to smile at him, her whole face lighting up. "John. Was there something else you needed?"

So Sheppard must have just been out on the balcony, even though he hadn't seen him in the vicinity. "Uh. . .I'm the other one."

"Oh." She turned away from him, back to the ocean. "We're going to have to try to figure out a way to tell you apart."

John shook off the sensation that made him feel like he was intruding. He crossed the balcony to lean on the railing next to her. "Sorry. I guess I'll start wearing a different color jacket. Will that help?"

That got the desired effect. She smiled, laughter briefly darting through her eyes as she shot him an amused look. _Oh, how much he'd missed that smile. . ._ "I suppose that would work." Her smile faded, and she looked away from him, that concern-laden look back in her eyes and on her face. "I still get the feeling you're hiding something from me, something from the future. Maybe something you didn't want to say in front of the others." She looked up, her far-too-perceptive eyes burning into his. "What is it?"

"I. . ." He had to swallow back the words and feelings rising into his throat. He wanted to tell her what he'd figured out, how much he loved her: it wasn't his place, though. This might be _his_ past, but this wasn't really his Elizabeth. She had ceased to be his Elizabeth the moment he appeared in the past. His Elizabeth Weir was dead. This was another Elizabeth, and he had to accept that. He couldn't tell her how he felt, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to let the other him figure it out and take his own course of action. But he supposed he could nudge things on a little. "I think I had better let your Sheppard tell you in his own time," he said softly, knowing this was the right decision, no matter how much it hurt.

Elizabeth tipped her head to the side a little, her confusion obvious. "What?"

"Nothing. You'll know what I mean when the time is right." He looked at her for a long moment, then leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. "I'm just glad you're okay," he said softly. He left the balcony, his steps faltering only a moment when she called after him.

It hurt. But he had to hold onto the pain anyway. It fueled his anger towards the Wraith and his desire for revenge, a revenge he had to exact to keep Elizabeth safe.

He knew that his resolve was not all that strong, though. If he wasn't careful, he could get lost in Elizabeth and actually compete with himself for her love.

_**-Atlantis – Past-**_

It was early evening in Atlantis. The gym was abandoned, giving Ronon just the space he needed. He sat in the corner, head leaned back against the wall, holding the picture he'd found in Teyla's room. For a long time he just sat quietly, his gaze wandering around the room, from the stained glass windows to the Bantos rods resting against the wall.

He could so clearly see, in his memory, all the times he and Teyla had been in this room. At first, on their off-days they would meet in the gym and spar together. Then it more or less became playful fighting, enlivened by some mischievous flirting. They'd spend hours together in the gym, then usually go to the cafeteria to sit and talk, sometimes about their fight against the Wraith, but usually about mutual interests.

Ronon hadn't realized just _how_ much he'd enjoyed those hours until Teyla had been snatched away. How stupid he'd been never to tell her how much their time together, how much she herself, meant to him.

Then, as suddenly as if she'd stepped from his memories, she was there, standing in the doorway staring at him in surprise. She was barefoot, her gym bag slung over her shoulder, and wearing that long, colorful skirt and matching top she always wore when training. Her hair was swept back in some random style that held it out of her face but did not lessen the ready-for-battle look. The last rays of the sunlight filtering in through the windows played in her eyes and made her skin softly glow. She almost looked like an angel there to save him from himself.

"Teyla. . ." He blinked and made himself look away. It hurt so much and yet felt so good being around her again, pain and pleasure locked together. He was going to go crazy if he wasn't careful.

"Ronon." She entered the room and set her bag down on the window seat. When she turned to look at him, most of the surprise had left her face, but still lingered in her eyes. "I was not expecting anyone to be here."

Ronon stood. "I'm sorry, I just came here to—" _—Mourn you_. But he couldn't say that, so he just said: "I'll leave you alone." Something inside told him he'd better leave before he said or did something stupid.

Teyla took a step forward, one hand rising in an unconscious gesture to stop him. "No, you do not have to go," she noticed her hand and lowered it, a shy expression on her face, "unless you want to leave."

"No, I don't mind staying." The moment stretched awkwardly as he was caught by and lost in her beautiful eyes. He finally cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. "Come to do a little after-hours training?"

Teyla smiled, a little discomfort showing through. "Yes. Everyone else seems to be occupied with—other things. I wanted to come and get away for a little while, think things through." She suddenly noticed the picture he still held; she drew a sharp breath. "Where did you get that?" she whispered, sounding scared yet dangerous.

Ronon swallowed. "I found it in your room. In the future." He looked back down at it for a moment. "I don't know why I picked it up, I just did. Good memories, I suppose." He held it out to her. "I'm sorry. Here."

She looked at it, then up at him, her eyes sad. "No, keep it." She reached out and gently pushed his hand, and thus the picture, away. "I have been meaning to get you. . .or, rather, my Ronon, a copy, but I keep forgetting."

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, confusing emotions tumbling around inside him. He couldn't hold back the words. "I've missed you so much, Teyla." He opened his eyes when he felt her come closer, not even bothering to hide his sorrow.

"I—" She stopped, swallowed, then whispered: "Did—do—I die, too?"

Ronon nodded. "Doctor Weir died immediately in the explosion. You were still alive when I found you. I had hoped. . . But it was too late. Beckett kept you on life support, but you died three months later." He reached out a shaky hand to touch her face; stopped and started to draw it back, knowing it was wrong to touch her but wishing he could.

Then her small warm hand caught his, pulling it up to her face and holding it there. Her eyes, so dark and expressive, met and held his. She whispered: "That is why you came back." It wasn't a question.

He saw no point in denying it. "Yes."

It was a mutual decision, it seemed. He leaned his head down as she tilted hers up. Their lips met and held, her hand going to his neck, thumb brushing across the tattoo there; his hand slipped to the back of her neck and gently tangled in the few loose strands dangling from her hair clip. He knew he shouldn't be kissing her, it was so wrong in terms of the timeline; but it felt so good to be holding her again.

Teyla broke the kiss. Raising her other hand to his shoulder, she stretched up on tiptoe to touch her forehead gently to his, then stepped back from him. "Ronon, I—" she began but broke off, her eyes suddenly focusing beyond him, an alarmed expression on her face.

Ronon whirled around. His past self stood in the door to the gym. His posture—shoulders hunched, head thrust slightly forward, fists clenched—shouted hostility. Ronon felt it like heat washing over his skin, the irrational but absolute jealousy blasting from the man. Without consciously willing it, he shifted into an equally aggressive stance. All the guilt and rage and grief he'd been carrying came to a sharp point within him, filling him with a hate as irrational as the other Dex's jealousy.

_You fool_! He hurled the thought like a spear. _You let her die!_ Emotions sizzled back and forth in their locked gazes, escalating, waiting for that tiny shift in body language that would trigger the explosion—

--And Teyla hurled herself between them, as angry as he'd ever seen her. "Stop it! Both of you! You _cannot_ defeat the Wraith if you are your own enemy!"

She was right. Ronon felt the truth of her words. Evidently the other Dex did too; at least he looked a little less apt to murder.

"Sorry, Teyla." His heart was still beating too fast, so the words came out in a kind of half-growl. He strode out of the room, unable to resist bumping Dex's shoulder with his own on the way past.

As he stalked away, Ronon heard Teyla saying something else very urgently; then, like an echo of his own, hard footsteps going down the hall the opposite direction. His gut twisted.

_Sheppard is going to _kill_ me_.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	10. Righting Wrongs

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 10/24

**-Chapter 10-**

_Righting Wrongs_

John found Ronon in the cafeteria, staring forlornly into a cup of Athosian tea. There was a weary expression on his face, but it was the pain in his eyes that caught Sheppard's attention. "What happened?" he questioned. He sat down uninvited across the table from his teammate.

Ronon looked up, his usual glower only at half power. "Aside from the other me wanting to kill me right about now -- you don't want to know." He started to raise the mug; set it down with a thump and shoved it away. The words wrenched out of him. "It's Teyla. Being here-- Seeing her again-- What happens if McKay can't get the Thing to blow? What if we can't change history and Atlantis is destroyed again? _What if we have to watch Teyla and Weir die again_?"

"That's not going to happen," John said firmly. "The plan is going to work." He leaned forward, his gaze as piercing as his words. "And the plan will work because we are going to make it work, no matter what it takes."

Ronon nodded, his lips drawing back briefly in his ferocious grin. "Yeah. After all, there's two of you, and two of me. How can it not work?"

John grimaced. "It's just—weird seeing him around." He picked up the saltshaker and shook white crystals into his hand. With detached fascination, he pressed his finger into the mound.

A wry smile twisted one side of Ronon's mouth upwards. "At least he doesn't want to kill you." He stood, paused, then, "Thanks, Sheppard," he said and walked away out of the mess hall.

"Yep," he said softly in response, a small acknowledgement to the retreating man's back.

_Two of you and two of me_. The words echoed in his mind. He brushed the salt off his palm, shaken by a sudden chill. He got slowly to his feet. It had been a long day, with the promise of longer ones to come; maybe it was time he hit the hay.

_**-Atlantis**__**–**__**Past-**_

Teyla finally found Ronon—_her_ Ronon—standing on one of the most secluded balconies in the city. He was leaning heavily on the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon where a storm was brewing. To judge by the expression on his face, that wasn't the only one about to strike.

"Ronon?" She spoke his name softly as she stepped forward, one hand out in an unconscious gesture towards him.

"I know I shouldn't feel like this." His voice was low, sullen, just below the level of being dangerous. Although the words were few, their meaning hit Teyla as strongly as if he'd spoken a hundred.

She moved forward to lean against the railing next to him, more interested in gazing at his face than the boiling horizon. "I understand why he did it," she said softly.

He was silent for a long moment before turning to ask her the question she expected. "Why then?" She knew him so well she could hear the slightest bit of jealousy still coloring his tone.

"I died." She had only just come to terms with it herself. Still, saying it out loud made it seem even stranger. "The explosion that killed Doctor Weir also killed -- will kill," she gave her head a confused little shake, "me."

Ronon flinched; for a brief moment she saw in his eyes an echo of the other Ronon's pain. "Yeah," he said flatly. "I know."

Teyla's brow furrowed. "He—told you this?"

"He didn't have to. I saw it in his face when he looked at you." The smoldering anger returned, smothering the pain. His jaw muscles knotted and he abruptly turned his shoulder on her.

Aggravation flared in Teyla. "Ronon." A gust of wind blew loose strands of hair across her face. She brushed them back impatiently. "Why are you so angry with him? Or," the thought struck her; her voice sharpened, "are you angry with _me_? Because of a _kiss_?"

"No; not with you." She could barely hear his denial over the increasing sounds of wind and wave, but his tone was repressive. _Just drop it, Teyla_. Even though he didn't speak the words aloud, his body language shouted them.

However, by now Teyla was in no mood to heed his signals. "He is _you_, Ronon, and he has suffered much since Atlantis's fall. He still grieves, and surely you of all people should understand—"

In one quick move, Dex straightened to his full height and turned to face her. His hands shot out, grasping her shoulders so tightly she gasped. His green eyes no longer smoldered, they blazed with emotion.

"Oh, I understand. So yes, Teyla, I'm angry." His voice growled like the swiftly approaching thunder. "I'm angry with him—with me—for not being there when you needed me, for letting you _die_!" He sucked a deep breath, his voice going ragged. "I loved Melena, I tried to save her, and she died right in front of me. A big part of me died then, too. _You_ brought that part back to life for me and now—and now it's all going to happen again, I'm going to lose you too—" His voice broke.

With a rush of wind and flash of lighting, the storm surged over the city. Neither one noticed its arrival; or when Atlantis's shield went up, cutting off both wind and the stinging splatter of raindrops.

Teyla's heart both sang and wept within her. She could feel his pulse pounding in his hands; felt her own accelerate to match it. Her lips shaped his name, but no sound emerged.

His hands left her shoulders; but only so one could splay against the middle of her back, pulling her into a hard embrace. The other hand cupped the back of her head, making it impossible to look anywhere but up at him. He bent his head and kissed her.

There was nothing gentle, like the Harvest Festival kiss, about this one; nor did it have the wistful sadness of the future Ronon's kiss. It was hard, it was rough, and it left Teyla breathless and weak-kneed and shivering.

Muttering an incoherent apology, Ronon started to put her away from him. Teyla wrapped her arms around his waist and clung with all her strength. "Do not apologize," she said, though it felt difficult to get enough air to speak. "I have been waiting for you to kiss me like that ever since the Harvest Festival."

Ronon looked staggered. "You—have? But, then, why—"

Teyla could almost have laughed at his bewilderment. Instead, she said gently, "Why did I not speak? Because it would not have been right of me to force you where you were not yet ready to go. I know your love for Melena brought you great joy, and great pain when you lost her. _You_ had to choose whether risking such pain again was worth it."

"Oh, Teyla." His strong arms went around her again, holding her this time with a careful fierceness. "I love you so much. And I've been a coward not to say so." He groaned, bending his neck to rest his cheek against the top of her head. "I've wasted so much time."

"Perhaps our future time will be given back to us." Teyla hung on to the sweetness of this moment, reveling in every aspect of it. "It is what he came back to do." She tilted her head up to give him a serious look. "We do owe your future self a debt of gratitude, Ronon."

His lips quirked in that little smile only she ever saw. The expression in his green eyes was no longer angry, but no less intense. One hand moved in delicious patterns over the bare skin of her lower back; the other tenderly twined its fingers in her ponytail.

"Yeah, we do," he agreed. "But not just yet."

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	11. Fragile Understandings

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 11/24

**-Chapter 11-**

_Fragile Understandings_

Long past midnight, John stood on the pier _Daedalus_ used as a landing site, now dark and vacant. His hands in his pockets, he gazed up at the incredible vista of Atlantis's spires and towers, soaring in undamaged splendor against the brilliantly starred sky. Some people, he knew—like the higher ups back on Earth—would damn him for what he was attempting. But _this_ was the way it should be, the way, he vowed, it _would_ be—no matter what it took.

His whole body ached with tiredness. He reentered the city, intending to make himself finally get some sleep. But when he stepped into a transporter, his hand automatically went to the destination control he'd touched so often over the past three-plus years. A heartbeat later, he stepped out into the hallway leading to the control room. Elizabeth's office, just off the other side of it, pulled his reluctant footsteps in its direction.

The few techs running night ops nodded to him as he passed. John imagined he could hear them thinking, _Wonder which one _he_ is_? Halfway across, he was able to see Elizabeth sitting at her desk with her laptop open in front of her. She didn't seem to be doing anything but staring at it, though.

_This is probably a really bad idea_, John told himself as he paused outside her office door. Memory suddenly washed over him; so many of his days in Atlantis had ended right here as he and Elizabeth recapped their days. It had become almost a ritual; and for John, no day ever felt really complete without it.

Just as he decided to retreat the way he'd come, something broke her reverie. She looked up and saw him.

"Colonel Sheppard," she said, with that little sideways tip of the head he'd thought he'd never see again. "Please, come in."

John approached her desk almost warily. "So, 'Colonel Sheppard' is it? How'd you know it was me? I haven't found a different jacket yet."

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, studying him through slightly narrowed eyes. John got the uncomfortable feeling that she was seeing right past his flippancy. "I suppose," she said slowly, "the extra three months you've lived through have marked you. There's definitely a sadness about you. . ." She slid a glance towards the glass wall separating her office from the control room. After the very briefest hesitation, she stood and came around her desk. "Come, walk with me."

John stepped aside to let her precede him. _Okay, so this was _absolutely_ a really bad idea_! Nevertheless, he fell into step with her, keeping a determined silence as she led the way to the staircase leading down from the control room to the Gate level. At the bottom she turned left, entering a corridor whose lights were dimmed to night-time levels.

Eventually, Elizabeth spoke. "This has been very difficult for me to accept. Please believe me when I say I know you did not come to your decision lightly. Having said that," she paused her eyebrows drawing together in a slight frown, "and meaning no offense, I still can't shake the feeling you're hiding something from me." She slanted a look up at him as they turned a corner. John put on his best deeply hurt "Who, me?" expression. She shook her head slightly and said, "Tell me again why you came back in time."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Like I told you in the briefing: the Wraith pounded Atlantis into rubble and killed nearly a third of the expedition." John was deliberately, brutally blunt. "McKay gave us a chance to keep it from ever happening, so we grabbed it." He put all the finality he could into his tone.

Elizabeth stopped and turned to face him fully, her green eyes intensely probing. She was so close. All he had to do was take one step and raise his arms for her to be within their circle. Just one step--John swallowed hard, his resolve beginning to shred.

"Please, John," Elizabeth said softly. She reached out and laid a gentle hand on his forearm. "You're carrying some other burden, a terrible burden, and I can see how it has worn—is wearing—you down. If you would just share it with me, perhaps I could help."

"Elizabeth, don't." He closed his eyes, forcing back the burning in his throat and behind his eyes. The words choked out of him. "I can't--" _An image in his mind, Elizabeth lying dead in his arms_-- Unconsciously, he clenched his fists. "I can't, I can't."

She was so close he could feel the warmth of her. He opened his eyes. Elizabeth was peering up at him, and the look of concern on her face pierced the last of his defenses. He knew his heart was in his eyes when he raised a shaking hand to brush her cheek ever so lightly.

"You're the burden I carry," he whispered. "Guilt over not being there to save you, guilt for never having the courage to tell you I love you. If Atlantis had survived intact, and you had been the only casualty, I still would have come back, Elizabeth—just to save you."

The instant after he'd spoken, John wished he'd found the strength to hold the words back as he saw something very like panic flare across Elizabeth's face. She took two quick steps back from him, holding up her hands as if to hold him off, even though he was making himself stand rock still.

Footsteps sounded in the intersecting hall behind him. John knew those footsteps: they were his own. _Uh-oh_. He glanced over his shoulder as Sheppard rounded the corner into view and came to an abrupt halt. In the split second his attention was diverted, Elizabeth bolted. He jerked back around to see her run down the corridor and vanish around a curve.

"What the--" Sheppard closed the distance between them, not running but with a rush, his gaze focused down the hall.

John stuck out an arm to bar him from going any farther. "No use following her," he said. "There's a transporter just beyond the curve."

"I know that." Sheppard pinned him with an angry glare. "So what was going on here? Why'd Elizabeth run away like that?"

John knew he had a quirky sense of responsibility; he didn't shirk it now. He met the other man's eyes without flinching and said simply, "I told her the truth."

Hazel eyes strove with hazel. Sheppard's expression altered subtly. "Oh, crap," he breathed. "You didn't—tell me you didn't-- You told her _that_?" The anger started building back.

John decided it was time for some more brutal bluntness. "Yeah, I told her; and you want to know why? Because for the last four months of _my_ life I've had to live with the consequences of the bad choices _you're_ still making. The irreverent flyboy pose, the whole Captain Kirk thing—lies to keep you from admitting to Elizabeth or yourself how much you love her."

Sheppard looked ready to deck him. "Well, thank you _so much_ for coming back to straighten that out for me. I'm sure Elizabeth thanks you, too."

John's shoulders slumped tiredly. He suddenly felt four decades instead of four months older than this earlier self. "Let's just lose the sarcasm for a minute, can we? All I'm saying is I wish someone had knocked me out of my comfort zone before it was too late and I'd lost my Elizabeth forever. I came back to give you a chance for the life you should have with yours."

Some of the anger left Sheppard's face, but he still looked plenty ticked. "You had no right--" he started to say, before closing his mouth hard against the words. He all at once looked confused.

John nodded. "I see you're finally getting it: you're arguing with yourself. So listen to yourself, and don't keep making the same mistakes you've made in the past. I'm telling you, the tough loner image isn't worth the price you pay to keep it. I blew my chance. Don't blow yours."

He turned and walked away, leaving a very disturbed looking Sheppard standing and staring after him.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	12. Fallout

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 12/24

**-Chapter 12-**

_Fallout_

_**-Atlantis**_ _**– Future-**_

"You – did -- _what_?" Doctor Peterson pushed to her feet with such force her chair nearly clattered over backwards.

Rodney swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. "That, uh, that Ancient device in my lab? I used it to send Colonel Sheppard and Ronon Dex back in time to save Atlantis?" It came out sounding more like a question.

Sylvia spun on her heel to pace the length of the briefing room and back again. Her blue eyes blazed with a barely-controlled rage that was clearly mirrored on her face. "And would you care to tell me _who_ or _what _gave you, Colonel Sheppard, and Specialist Dex the _authority_ to meddle with time?"

McKay winced at her steel-hard tone, wishing he could just make himself disappear. "We all believed it was the right thing to do." Even to himself, it sounded weak. "We--"

Sylvia didn't allow him to finish. "Did you even bother to consider the ramifications this may – will! -- have on the future—_our_ future? Because, correct me if I'm wrong here, there will be consequences not only to _this_ timeline in _this_ galaxy, but also to the Milky Way and who knows if it stops there?" She planted the knuckles of her clenched fists on the table and leaned toward him. "I do not see where it says 'supreme being' anywhere on your uniform, Doctor. Is your ego so enormous that you think you can obliterate an entire course of history _just because you personally don't like it?_"

Rodney chose to overlook the slur to his ego for the moment – after all, the woman was trying to cope with an enormous shock – and focused instead on what he perceived to be a misconception on her part. "Actually, while we do have confirmation of the existence of alternate parallel realities from SG-1's experiences with the quantum mirror, we weren't able to do any research on establishing laws of causality or effect with regard to individual events, on how one reality can arise from or branch off another. General Hammond ordered the device destroyed before such studies could be undertaken." He puffed a disgusted breath, shaking his head over the shortsightedness of the military mindset. "But saying that this timeline will be obliterated is an unsubstantiated--"

"Doctor McKay!" Doctor Peterson's tone was a slap in the face. "If you're trying to sidetrack me from the real issue here, it won't work. You and your cohorts went behind my back to do this without so much as an encoded _memo_ to me! You have lied to me, you have messed around with time to make it yield to your own wishes, and I have yet to hear any indication at all from you that any of you gave any serious weight to the inevitable consequences of those actions!"

Rodney snapped his gaze up to lock with Sylvia's. Since she didn't pull her punches, he didn't pull his. "Excuse me, but for almost four months we _agonized_ over every possible reaction that could result from what we did or didn't do. It always came back to one thing: Atlantis is the last hope for saving the Pegasus galaxy, and our own, from the Wraith. In the right here and now, that hope doesn't exist anymore. We can never rebuild the city, we won't even be able to save what little is left from another attack. This galaxy is going to fall into chaos, once again being nothing more than the feeding grounds of the Wraith. Ours may be next. Tell me, Doctor Peterson, is that really the future you want for all of the people of two galaxies?"

"No, of course it isn't." Her voice was a little more subdued. She straightened and folded her arms across her midriff. "All right, I can understand that, even if I'm not yet ready to say I accept it. But am I not correct in believing that isn't the only reason why you, Sheppard, and Dex have done this? Can you look me in the eye and tell me there wasn't a personal element to all this?"

Oh, this was the part he had really wanted to avoid; the part that he knew would stick in his throat and come out sounding so totally wrong. Nevertheless, McKay nodded reluctantly. "Yes." He paused to try to gather himself, looking anywhere but at the woman in front of him. "Sheppard and I, we've been teammates ever since the beginning of the Atlantis expedition. Same with Ronon, you know, just not quite as long. And, uh, when you have that bond over a long period of time, well, you just kind of know things without anything ever actually being said." His voice went very soft. Without his even realizing it, all the awkwardness dropped away from his demeanor. "So I knew he was in love with Elizabeth. After she died, I watched him start not to care anymore. I watched Ronon in that observation room, staying with Teyla because he loved her and hoped she'd survive. When she died, he drew back into himself, emotionally returning to the Runner he'd been when we first met him." Rodney stood and leaned against the table in mirror of Sylvia's earlier position. This wasn't about him; he knew that. This was about his friends, his _family_, and their home. He _had_ to make Sylvia understand that.

"So, yes, Doctor Peterson, there was a 'personal element' in what we did. But I am being absolutely sincere when I say it wasn't the main reason we made the decision to go ahead with using the device. To all of us who came here knowing we might never see or have contact with Earth again, Atlantis has become more than just a city; she is this expedition's _home_. Atlantis brought Elizabeth Weir and John Sheppard together, civilian and military working together for a greater good. Atlantis freed Teyla and the Athosians from the constant threat of unprotected attack from the Wraith, and freed Ronon from his slavery to the Wraith, running for his life and sanity. Atlantis brought them together the same way it brought Elizabeth and Sheppard to each other. This was a city of grandeur, of wonders; a place where friendships were forged, and relationships developed and flourished." He shook his head, lifting his hands almost as if in appeal. "How could we _not_ try to get that back?"

Sylvia looked at him, sorrow replacing the anger in her eyes. "I know I haven't been in Atlantis very long, and that I'm still perceived as being an outsider. Elizabeth Weir has been a very tough act to follow." Now her voice was the softest it had been in the entire meeting. "All right: so a part of me agrees wholeheartedly with you and what you are doing. I apologize for accusing you of acting from rampant ego. However, the fact remains you have taken on yourself decisions you were never authorized to make. And in doing so, you have risked unimaginable damage to the very fabric of time itself." She paused, shaking her head tiredly and sadly. "What am I going to do with you, Doctor?"

Rodney swallowed hard. He'd been scolded before, but the last time he'd only destroyed five-sixths of a solar system. That was a mere bagatelle compared to his most recent actions. However, "I'm not sorry," he finally said. "I know I've done the right thing. If John and Ronon fail, there can be no worse punishment for me."

"And for all of us," Sylvia said, the underlying sharpness back in her tone. "For all of our sakes, Doctor, I sincerely hope that your plan does succeed. Because if it doesn't. . ." She left the sentence unfinished as she picked up her data pad and left the room. Her stiff shoulders and uneven gait shouted frustration and anger, an exclamation point on the end of her final, dangling threat.

Rodney picked up his own data pad, distracted. He needed space. He needed time to think, time to plan. Or, perhaps, all he needed was something to distract his mind from what was happening around him and make him feel like things were normal for a few precious hours.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	13. Turmoil

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 13/24

**-Chapter 13-**

_Turmoil_

_**-Atlantis – Past -**_

_Teyla raised the bouquet of wildflowers Ronon had given her to her nose, smiling up at him as he gently guided her away from the excitement of the Harvest Festival. Now they walked quietly through the tall grass side by side, content to enjoy their silent companionship._

_The wind brushed through her loose hair, lifting it from her neck and tickling it across her cheeks. Slightly irritated, she pushed the stray strands away, reaching for the band around her wrist so she could gather the thick strands back into a ponytail._

_All through the process she could feel Ronon's eyes on her--thoughtful, gentle. It brought warmth to her cheeks she hoped he wouldn't notice. Perhaps he'd think it was just leftover from the warmth of the fire she'd been standing beside when he'd drawn her away to walk through the fields._

"_Sheppard told me that today's your birthday." Ronon's voice was hoarse when he spoke, but Teyla wasn't bothered by the roughness._

"_He was correct." She could barely force her voice above a whisper. She stopped walking at the exact same moment as Ronon, turning to face him as he tipped his head down to look at her. The starlight played in his eyes, whose endless green depths stole her breath._

_Ronon raised his right hand, closed into a fist. "I got you this." He opened his hand; a necklace fell free from its shelter, dangling from his fingers and catching the distant flicker of the campfires. It sparkled like fallen stars, like the firelight it was reflecting. "Happy birthday, Teyla."_

"_Oh, Ronon. . ." She reached up her hand to touch the cool earth-toned beads. She trailed her fingers up the necklace until they met his hand. She raised her eyes to meet his again, swallowing hard when she saw his expression. "It is so beautiful." Was she just talking about the necklace? she wondered._

_A smile—boyish, shy, so unlike him but somehow right just the same—played across his lips and danced in his eyes. He undid the catch and reached behind her neck to clasp it. She read so many emotions in his eyes, each warring for domination. She couldn't look away as she shivered slightly, icy chills slipping down her spine._

_Ronon's fingers lightly brushed her jaw as he withdrew his hands. She attempted to tame the wild fluttering in her heart and her stomach._ Kiss me. . ._ She wasn't sure if she'd said it aloud, or if those words had merely been a random thought in her mind. Either way, his hands stopped their withdrawal, instead moving to cup her face as he tipped his head down. He gazed into her eyes as though searching for some sort of permission before he leaned forward that extra little space and kissed her._

_She rose on her tiptoes slightly, resting the hand with the bouquet against his waist to steady herself. His hands, work-roughened and strong, still seemed so gentle as he trailed one down her arm to take her hand; the other slid around the back of her neck to tangle in the loose strands dangling from her ponytail. At the same time, almost of its own accord, her free hand moved to twine in his dreadlocks._

_The kiss was so intoxicating that, when he slowly drew away from her, she found she never wanted him to stop. _Again, Ronon, please--

"_Teyla, I. . ." He looked away from her as though ashamed of his actions._

_She brushed her fingers over his lips, silencing him. Then she placed her hand against the side of his face, gently forcing him to return his gaze to her. "Do not speak," she whispered. A smile burst from her heart, blooming across her lips and dancing in her eyes. "And do not regret the kiss we just shared. . . I know that I do not."_

_Ronon smiled again. His eyes slowly lit, not just from the starlight from above, but with a light from deep within him. The look whispered softly of what could one day be, if they were patient and hopeful. For a moment, with the starlight in his eyes and the firelight making his skin glow the color of warm honey, she saw Ronon as the man he could be. Or perhaps it was as he once had been: still that proud and strong warrior; but with a gentle, tender side as well. He withdrew his hand from behind her neck, fingers lightly brushing across her necklace as he did so._

_She swallowed hard, feeling the intensity of Ronon's gaze pierce straight to the deepest, most secret part of her heart. She longed to have the freedom to love this man for the rest of their lives._

_And maybe, just for the night of her birthday, she could dare to dream that her most secret of hopes had come true._

Teyla woke with a smile on her lips, joy and love abounding in her heart. Warmth seeped slowly through her veins and to her heart, mingling with her current joy. _I can hardly believe this is really true!_

She rolled over onto her side and focused her eyes on the vase of flowers sitting on her nightstand. In the two weeks or so since Ronon had presented them to her, they had begun to wilt. But their beauty was no less dimmed in her eyes.

_Ronon_. Even just thinking about him gave her a reason to smile. She reached out a hand, brushing it over the soft petals of the flowers; then picked up the necklace from its place just to the side of the vase. She cradled the necklace in one hand, running the fingers of the other over the smooth beads. _He loves me._

Teyla flipped over onto her back and grinned up at the ceiling, clasping the necklace against her chest. She'd never felt this happy, content—_complete_—before now. It was wonderful.

Then reality seeped through the warmth left by her dream. _The Wraith will be here tomorrow._ Somehow, even knowing that couldn't take away her happiness. She might be living her last few days. But if indeed they were, they would be the best of her life. Now she knew that the man she loved also loved her, she could face whatever came, be it death or life.

She held up her necklace again, fingering the beads; sat up and secured it around her neck. For a moment she gazed across the room at the reflection of herself in the mirror hanging there. Looking into her own eyes, she reaffirmed what she already knew.

"Whenever my last day with Ronon Dex comes, I will cherish it—and him—and every single moment from now until then." She smiled again. Slipping out of bed, she hurried to get dressed so she could begin fulfilling that wonderful promise to herself.

_**-Atlantis – Past -**_

The door of his temporary quarters abruptly whooshing open interrupted Ronon's study of the ceiling. Reflexes honed by years of Running kicked him halfway to his feet even as he recognized his earlier self standing just outside. _Sheppard is right; this is weird._ He took in the body language of folded arms and rigid stance first, then the familiar tightness around eyes and mouth. _Doesn't look like _he's _slept much either._ Very deliberately, he let out his breath and eased back down onto the cot. Still, he couldn't resist flinging out a small challenge. "So, have you come to try to break my neck?"

Dex entered the room. He sat down uninvited on a folding chair, all without taking his eyes off Ronon. His lips drew back slightly from his teeth: _challenge noted and declined_. "Not this time. Actually, I think I'm here to thank you."

_That_ was so unexpected, Ronon's jaw nearly dropped; but he quickly masked his surprise. "Huh. Thought you were mad at me for kissing Teyla."

"I was. Now, though," Dex hesitated, then sighed heavily and dragged his hands down his face. "I knew the moment I saw the way you looked at her, I _knew_ Teyla was going to die. I've seen that look before—I've worn it before. I was mad at you for not being there. I was mad at _myself_ for not being there."

Ronon had to swallow twice before he could say sardonically, "Funny, I thought the exact same thing about you." All humor vanished though as he went on harshly, "At least it was fast for Melena. It wasn't for Teyla."

An awkward silence descended over the room. The tension stretched to the snapping point.

The words finally wrenched themselves out of Dex. "Teyla. How did she--?"

Ronon flinched, fiercely rubbing his eyes to try to eradicate the image seared into his mind. _Burning; screaming; Teyla's flawless skin ravaged by the blazing flames._ He made a deep, unconscious noise of pain in his throat. "The explosion. She-- _Ancestors_." It was a plea for control, for patience, for relief.

Dex sat stonily in his seat; the only movement he exhibited was a slight twitch in his jaw. Ronon's voice was ragged when he finally spoke again. "She must have been standing only a few feet away from the wall when the explosion hit. It trapped her under so much debris, injured her so badly, she couldn't escape the fire that came after. That was what really--" His hands clenched into fists; he longed to hit something, _anything_ with them. "She died -- three months later. The burns, the internal injuries -- they sent her into a coma. She never woke up."

Dex sat for a long time, digesting the information slowly and painfully. At last he looked up again, obviously fighting to control the anger rising in him again. Ronon went ahead and answered the question before it could be asked. "I was with Sheppard and a bunch of Marines defending the entrance to the control tower. Teyla and a few others had gone to extract Weir and a team of scientists from where they were pinned down in the Science and Research tower. The transporters were down, so they had to walk it." He rubbed his eyes again. "I know that even if I'd been there I could have done nothing to save her. But maybe I could have kept her from suffering alone. Maybe I could have told her. . ." He rested his heavy head in his hands.

"I have." Dex's voice was as low and hoarse as Ronon's. Ronon lifted his head to lock eyes with him. "Thanks to you, I've told Teyla the truth." The anguish in his eyes pierced Ronon. "It can't happen again."

"It won't. That's why I'm here." His next words had all the weight of a vow. "I'm going to stop it – no matter what it takes."

_**-Atlantis**_ _**–**_ _**Past-**_

_Why am I so cold?_

Elizabeth extended an arm aching with chill, groping for the blanket she'd surely only kicked off during her sleep. Only very gradually did she realize that she was still fully dressed except for her radio headset and lying on top of her still-made bed.

Memory slammed Elizabeth like a sucker punch, and she sat bolt upright. Her head gave a vicious retaliatory throb; she grabbed at her forehead and sank back down. She remembered stumbling through the doors into her quarters the night before; she remembered ripping off the headset and giving it a random pitch before throwing herself onto her bed.

She remembered crying like she would never run out of tears.

And she remembered why.

Her throat hurt; her mouth felt like a desert; and her eyes ached with a kind of hot scratchiness. _That's the first time I've cried myself to sleep in _how_ many years?_ She felt utterly worn out by weeping. She longed to creep under the blanket, pull it over her head, and block out the day. But she knew for her it wasn't an option.

She was Doctor Elizabeth Weir: leader of the Atlantis expedition, _de facto_ governor of the City of the Ancients, the person everyone else looked to in times of crisis.

_I'm a mess._ Elizabeth carefully sat up again and avoided looking at herself in the mirror across the room as she ran her hands through her disheveled hair. Her mind was already busily at work, churning out reminders: The Wraith arrived tomorrow, the _Daedalus_ today; plans to save Atlantis needed to be fine-tuned if not finalized. _Oh, joy. On top of everything else,_ her mind flinched automatically away from what the euphemism represented, _I have to brief Colonel Caldwell and Hermiod on this mess. They are so not going to be pleased with this situation._

Elizabeth stared at her watch, forcing her exhausted brain to concentrate on the numbers glaring back at her. If she got moving now, she would have just enough time for a cup of coffee before the ship arrived. Then she remembered that she needed to touch base with Rodney and Radek to check on their progress with the time-travel device. _Another coffee on the run,_ she thought ruefully as she all but staggered toward the bathroom. _Maybe John will bring me something later._

She froze. _John. How am I going to face him – either him? I acted like a fool last night. But how was I supposed to take those words?_ She buried her face in her hands, resisting the temptation to start sobbing again. _Is it true? Does he love me?_ Another thought struck her. _Do _I _love _him?

_What would I ever do without him?_

The realization slapped her across the face like a blast of cold water. She shivered at the terrifying thought. John Sheppard had become a part of her life, a part of _her._ Just _thinking_ about losing him tore a hole in her heart. The Wraith were coming; it could happen. And even if they survived this time, the possibility was always out there waiting. John didn't have a nice, safe office job.

"What am I going to do?" The words came out in a groan. She took the few remaining steps into the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror drew her. She leaned against the edge of the sink to stare into her own eyes. "I love him—so help me, I love him—but how can we possibly make this work?"

She wanted it to work out; she felt it so keenly that it was almost a physical ache in her heart. Never before had Elizabeth experienced feelings so strong, so completely_ unexplainable_, about someone. It terrified her. Her relationship with Simon had been safe, predictable; she had been assured a stress-free happily-ever-after.

With John, everything was totally opposite. He embodied the unpredictable, at times even the reckless, but always because of driving passion. Everything he did, he did with one-hundred percent commitment. She admired that in him, even though the Air Force considered him a maverick, not totally trustworthy. He challenged her to see things in a different light, with different eyes. She'd thought they'd come to a unique understanding with each other; up until the night before, she'd been quite comfortable with it.

_Comfortable!_ But blind – so very blind!

Simon had equaled security. John equaled never knowing what the next few hours would bring. Simon stood for familiarity. John represented a wild, crazy ride where anything could happen. During her time in Atlantis, her sense of adventure had grown and flourished. The wonders beyond her home planet and galaxy had been eagerly and willingly shared with John Sheppard; Simon had turned them down. Their balcony, with the most breathtaking view of the ocean and the sunset that they so much enjoyed sharing, symbolized the growing unity between them.

_When did unity of purpose turn into love? At what point did it become something worth changing history for? At what point did _I _become worth the risk and the burden?_

The haggard face in the mirror gave her no answers. Her emotional world had been knocked onto its ear; her physical world was about to be. For the time being, one had to take priority.

She was Doctor Elizabeth Weir: leader of the expedition to Atlantis, _de facto_ governor of the City of the Ancients, the person everyone else looked to in times of crisis.

Tears were running down her face again. The question of her own worth had to be shelved for now. But Atlantis – yes, she decided, Atlantis was worth every risk they had to take in its defense. She would cling to that for now, and deal with the other later.

She erased all outward signs of her inward turbulence. Atlantis's leader must be the very image of calm, collected confidence. Nothing else could – or would – be allowed to show. Each step of her toilette became a bulwark to her determination, a stone in her inner defensive wall.

Her headset clicked in her ear just as she reassumed it. Chuck's voice said crisply, "Dr. Weir, _Daedalus_ is requesting permission to land."

"Thank you. Permission granted. And please have all the members of Colonel Sheppard's team gather in Dr. McKay's lab." Elizabeth nodded to the image in the mirror, satisfied that it matched her voice: cool, matter-of-fact, in control.

She went out to fight in her own way for her city and its people.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	14. Preparations

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 14/24

**-Chapter 14-**

_Preparations_

_**-Atlantis**_ _**– Past-**_

As they waited for Dr. Weir, Colonel Caldwell and Hermiod to arrive at Rodney's crowded lab, John nudged Sheppard's elbow with his own. When Sheppard glanced his way, he said out of the corner of his mouth, "Caldwell ought to wig when he sees there're _two_ of us."

Unholy glee sparkled briefly in Sheppard's eyes. "You think?" The sober look returned. He seemed to want to say something more; but sounds several people approaching drew everyone's attention to the door.

Elizabeth entered first. She went straight to where Rodney and Radek stood by the lab bench with the Thing. John felt a little stab of hurt when she didn't so much as glance in his or Sheppard's direction. He shook it off. He knew her so well, knew that super-controlled look on her face. He'd seen it before. She was in her emotional lockdown mode: all her energy focused on the current crisis, anything that might distract her from her task blocked out.

"What the--!" Caldwell, entering just after Elizabeth, stopped dead two paces inside the lab. Hermiod, the Asgard liaison with the _Daedalus_, sidestepped quickly and also came to an abrupt halt.

John and Sheppard, in unplanned but perfect synchronization, tipped their heads back slightly in a "how ya doin'?" motion. A look very like frustrated disbelief smoldered in Caldwell's brown eyes.

"Dr. Weir," he began sharply. At that moment, on the other side of the room, Ronon and Dex crossed their arms. Caldwell's head jerked around in their direction. He drew a deep, audible breath. "Dr. Weir," he repeated, thrusting his head a little forward as he turned his attention back to her, "an explanation of what is going on here, please?"

Completely unfazed, Elizabeth returned his look coolly. "I apologize for the shock, Colonel Caldwell, Hermiod," she said. "But there was really no good way to prepare you for this beforehand. Now, as for that explanation, if you'll both have a seat, I'll begin."

As Elizabeth launched into a crisp summary of the situation, John watched Caldwell closely. _Daedalus_'s commander had his face under control now. The blanker his expression became, though, the tighter the knot of tension in John's belly grew.

And the funky, naked little grey alien staring at him with big unblinking eyes wasn't helping, either.

Caldwell listened in stony silence until Elizabeth began outlining Plan B: detonating the _Daedalus_'s hyperdrive. His façade cracked, displaying the hostility beneath. "You want me to blow up my _ship_? That is the most insane--"

"It's how we destroyed the Hive ships the first time." Ronon cut Caldwell off. "The _Daedalus_ had taken so much damage it couldn't fight, couldn't retreat; so you ordered the hyperdrive to be overloaded. The explosion destroyed all the Hives and saved what was left of Atlantis." He pinned Caldwell with a look that dared him to argue.

John had a sudden, vivid memory: Ronon kicking a chair out of the way, grabbing a Goa'uld-possessed Caldwell, effortlessly slinging him over a table and across the room. He wondered if Caldwell were remembering also.

Elizabeth intervened smoothly, automatically reducing the threat level. "I am confident we will not have to exercise that option this time. We are forewarned. Doctors McKay and Zelenka have been working non-stop on bypassing the failsafes on the time travel device so we can detonate it. I assure you, that is our preferred plan. No one wants to sacrifice the _Daedalus_ and its crew."

"Even though it may still come to that," Caldwell shot back. "So, do I assume the Pentagon and the I.O.A. are onboard with this?"

Elizabeth's chin went up slightly at the veiled challenge. "I'm sure you're quite aware we have not consulted Earth," she said. "We are conserving every last bit of ZPM energy we can to power the shield when the Wraith attack comes. Every second we buy now may be very precious later."

"Dr. Weir." For the first time Hermiod spoke. He had remained standing next to where Caldwell half-perched on a lab stool; perhaps he felt it beneath the dignity of an Asgard to climb up onto the one saved for him. "While I concur with the wisdom of attempting to destroy the Ancient time travel device," Rodney and Radek bridled with offense, "I cannot agree with your primary purpose in doing so. Altering a timeline, wiping out one history to replace it with another you find more favorable is," he paused for two slow blinks of his enormous eyes, "foolhardy."

Up to that point, John had been determined to respect the distance Elizabeth seemed to want between them. This was too much, though: he took the four steps needed to bring him to stand behind her left shoulder. He wasn't at all surprised when Sheppard moved in the same instant to take up a mirroring position to her right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ronon and Dex, Teyla between them, move a little closer to Elizabeth as well.

Elizabeth didn't openly acknowledge their support; but John noticed how her shoulders went a little straighter. "Foolhardy," she repeated. "Perhaps. But in our 'foolhardy' way, we are attempting to prevent, among other things, the certain destruction of _Daedalus_. We have considered very well the consequences of our actions, and have concluded this is the only possible course we can take." Her voice took on an edge of hard authority. "But be _very_ clear on this, gentlemen: With or without your cooperation we will find a way to make this happen. If you choose not to help us, you can take _Daedalus_ back to Earth -- and try to prepare the Milky Way for the Wraith onslaught that will surely follow Atlantis's fall."

John's heart ached with pride and love of her, though he let none of it show. He kept his eyes fixed on Caldwell. _Face it, guy: You're never going to get the best of her!_ On the heels of the thought, he saw the miniscule shift of stance that signaled capitulation.

"Go on," was all Caldwell said though. "I'm listening."

Sheppard cleared his throat and spoke. "We've already begun implementing contingency plans for city defense in case the shield fails before we can detonate the device. Our Marines are setting up rail gun positions and our techs are running combat preflight checks on all our Jumpers." He paused, then added carefully, "Of course, our aerial defenses would be greatly augmented by the addition of your F-302s."

"Done," Caldwell agreed with barely any visible signs of struggle. "I'll give the orders as soon as this briefing dismisses."

"I've got the first failsafe licked," McKay said. Radek looked sour and muttered something in Czech under his breath. Ignoring him, Rodney continued, "The second one is being a little more difficult, but I'm sure I'll figure it out in plenty of time. Especially once I get my lab back."

"All nonessential expedition personnel will be evacuated to our Alpha site before the Wraith arrive." Elizabeth addressed the civilian side of preparations. "Specialists Dex have agreed to help Teyla with the evacuation of the Athosians on the mainland. As soon as a Jumper clears preflight, it will be detailed to--"

"Excuse me, Doctor," Caldwell interrupted. "The _Daedalus_ can handle the mainland evacuation in one trip -- no need to tire your Jumper pilots."

John saw that Teyla looked almost as surprised as he felt. She tipped her head in a respectful nod. "Thank you, Colonel Caldwell," she said. "That will indeed make things much easier on my people."

_Daedalus_'s commander returned her nod with a sketchy one of his own. He looked back at Weir. "One more thing, Doctor. I'd like to evacuate all nonessential _Daedalus_ personnel to the Alpha site as well."

"Of course, Colonel." She swept the room with a glance. "Anything else, anyone?"

Ever since Caldwell abandoned his opposition, John had noticed Hermiod edging closer to the workbench holding the Thing. Now the Asgard said, "It will also be more expedient to move the device to the _Daedalus_ now." As McKay's arms twitched in an abortive snatch at the Thing, he added smoothly, "Drs. Zelenka and McKay are naturally welcome to come along and assist."

"Assist? What do you mean, _assist_--" Rodney was nearly bug-eyed with rage.

"Dr. McKay, Dr. Zelenka, please oversee the transfer of the device and get those fail safes ready to be overridden as quickly as possible." Elizabeth still had that note of quiet command in her voice. "All right, everybody, we all know what we have to do. Let's go do it."

_**-Atlantis – Past-**_

It was late night again, and John still couldn't sleep. He paced Atlantis, wondering what part of defending the city he'd missed, fighting the urge to turn his steps towards Weir's office.

He lost. He took the long way around, though, intending to approach the control room from the Gate level. Without consciously realizing, he was backtracking along the way he and Elizabeth had taken the night before.

Voices reached him as he approached a corridor junction. He automatically halted, recognizing Elizabeth's -- and his own, listening unwillingly.

"Elizabeth, please at least consider going to the Alpha site. Everything that can be done here is done, or about to be."

"You know I can't do that, John. I'm the leader of this expedition; my place is here."

John bit his lip, _feeling_ Sheppard's desperation in his gut. "And this expedition needs you alive to lead it. You'll actually still be serving that need by keeping yourself safe."

"I'm staying here." She was still in that lockdown state. He could hear it in her voice. "That's final."

"Elizabeth." The words could be ripping themselves from his own throat, they hurt so badly. He closed his eyes and turned his head slightly away. "_I_ need you to stay alive. I—"

"Don't. Please don't." Her self-control was fraying, her voice going a little ragged. "Not now. After we save the city. . .but not now. Not now."

Moving as silently as he had when stalking the invading Genii, John withdrew. Maybe he should've kept his mouth shut; maybe in trying to make things be better, he'd actually made them worse.

Well, _that_ would be par for the course.

He wandered past McKay's empty, darkened lab -- too bad the scientist wasn't available for a little recreational harassing. He eventually passed the gym, giving the inside an idle glance, remembering all the times he'd spent there--

He realized he was saying goodbye to Atlantis even as he noticed the dreadlocked figure squatting in the shadows against the far wall.

"Ronon," he said, pausing to lean a shoulder against the doorjamb. "You okay?"

Ronon gave him a long look, seeming to be as worn down as John felt. Comprehension dawned. John went over and eased himself down beside the other man, loosely resting his wrists on his upraised knees. "You tried to get Teyla to go to the Alpha site."

"We both did. She won't go." There was a brief silence; John felt Ronon glancing at him sideways. "You try with Weir?"

"_He_ did. She isn't budging either."

Another long pause. Then, "Sheppard," Ronon said, his voice low and strained. "You thought about what's going to happen when they blow that Thing?"

John took his time answering. "A little. Best case scenario, they blow it before the shield fails, and Atlantis takes no damage at all."

"And we just fade away." Ronon seemed to replay those words in his mind. A puff of breath like a sigh escaped his lips. "Not the way I'd planned to go."

"Me neither." John watched the moonlight slide infinitesimally across the opposite wall. "Of course, worst case scenario the shield goes down and we go out fighting."

The corner of Ronon's mouth turned up ever-so-slightly. He tipped his head back to rest it against the wall. John settled his shoulders a little more comfortably. They sat together, the warrior from Sateda and the warrior from Earth, as the next-to-last night of their lives slipped silently past.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	15. A Living Nightmare

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 15/24

**-Chapter 15-**

_A Living Nightmare_

_**-Atlantis – Past-**_

The Wraith arrived and began their attack.

Every ten seconds another hit slammed against Atlantis's shield, pounding relentlessly through the day and on into the night. Even though they knew differently, those remaining in the city almost expected the walls around them to quiver from the repeated impacts. No one got much sleep; not only were the flashes unsettling in the extreme, everyone knew the ZPM was rapidly being drained with each hit. The more power the ZPM lost, the weaker the shield got.

As the hours dragged past Elizabeth wished passionately for some contact between the city and the _Daedalus_, concealed behind Atlantis's sun and maintaining radio silence until the time came to put their plan into action. If she wanted to be completely honest, she actually ached to be able to pressure Rodney, Radek, and Hermiod to work faster. That was how they functioned best; at least Rodney did. The threat of imminent danger (or death) always made him lift his efforts to unbelievable levels.

The hours dragged past. She rarely left her office or the area of the control room, feeling that she _had_ to be immediately at hand, that even a second's absence could thwart all their planning. One of the Johns, as she had started thinking of them, or sometimes both together were usually close by: bringing her coffee or something to eat, or urging her to sit down for a minute or two, solid in their silent support.

Daylight brought a deceptive dimming of the impacts on the shields. Elizabeth stood on the control room balcony watching the dawn. Her hands clenched on the railing. Would it be the last one she, and so many others, would ever see? _Could_ history be changed? Or would some cosmic failsafe beyond their control force them inexorably into a predetermined path?

"Elizabeth." John spoke quietly from behind her. "You need to come inside and stay inside – now."

She turned to look at him a little wildly. Somewhere during the night, she had lost the ability to differentiate between the two; each of them now seemed equally marked by the burdens they bore.

"It's not going to be safe out here for much longer." _Would her John know that? Had the other one sent him out to retrieve her? Or was _he_ the other, come to draw her from a danger he'd already experienced?_ She raised a shaking hand to her forehead, her mind reeling and swinging among the possibilities.

"Elizabeth?" He took a step closer to her, hazel eyes concerned and questioning. He halfway extended a hand.

It took all the strength of will she possessed, but somehow she managed to pull herself together. "I'm sorry, John," she said, "I didn't mean to alarm you." She pasted on the best reassuring smile she could muster as she went towards him. "I guess I was just off in my own little world for a bit."

He took her elbow long enough to steer her into the control room, saying, "I gave you as long as I could. Hope I didn't startle you."

"No, no, I'm fine." In the back of her mind, some part of her howled with hysterical laughter. _Listen to us! Mouthing amenities back and forth, pretending everything is going to be normal and all right._

_Oh, John, John! Why couldn't I admit how much I love you when there was still time?_

Elizabeth's headset clicked. As she reached to activate it, she saw John mirroring her gesture. A panic-stricken voice came through. "_Doctor Weir? Colonel Sheppard? This is Doctor Thompson. The ZPM is almost depleted!_"

Elizabeth locked eyes with John. Footsteps pounded up the stairs from the Gate level. The other John hurried over to join them just as the other channel on all their headsets, tuned to _Daedalus_, clicked.

Colonel Caldwell's voice came through. "_Atlantis, this is _Daedalus_. We are beginning to move from behind the sun into position to execute our plan._"

The three of them exchanged quick glances of relief and hope. Elizabeth responded to Caldwell first. "Good to hear, Colonel. We've only minutes of power left in the ZPM before the shield fails. Please standby while I pass on the word." She clicked over to Doctor Thompson, her voice sounding almost gay. "You can relax, Doctor, the _Daedalus_ is working on it right now." Then she turned her attention back to Caldwell. "What's your exact status, Colonel?"

"_McKay, Zelenka, and Hermiod are just finishing up the last modifications to the time device. We'll be in position to beam it to the central Hive in less than four minutes._"

Elizabeth let out a breath and closed her eyes. "Thank you. Contact us again when you're almost in position."

"_Will do, Doctor. _Daedalus_ out._"

Tense silence, so thick as to be nearly palpable, settled over the control room. Elizabeth looked at the two Sheppards, who seemed like identical twins standing side-by-side a few feet away from her.

_This is it,_ she thought. _This is the moment we have all been waiting for. All this anticipation, all this concern, all this work -- I hope it's not all for nothing._ Motioning for them to come with her, she nervously crossed the control room to stand on the little balcony overlooking the Gateroom. Below, a group of Marines prepared to defend the control tower should the shield fail before the _Daedalus_ could destroy the Hives with the time-travel device.

Her eyes scanned the group, coming to rest at last on the Dexes and Teyla. All three were rigged out in full combat gear. The two men were exchanging edgy looks; Teyla looked like she could punch them both out. A faint, genuine smile curved her lips. She wondered if the Ronons had tried to get Teyla to evacuate to the Alpha site, and if they were still pressuring her to stay in the control room, an area of moderate safety. From Teyla's expression, she was ready to threaten them with bodily harm if they didn't give it up.

Teyla looked up, offering her a grim smile. Elizabeth returned it with equal seriousness. They each had a unique perspective on the situation. It was their deaths that had inspired their two visitors from the future to attempt a radical rewrite of history. Weir nodded at the Athosian, who acknowledged it with a slight tilt of her head. _Be very careful_. The thought zinged between them on the look.

Elizabeth paced back to the communications console, tension building to an all but unbearable level. _What is taking them so long?_ She glanced at her watch -- only two minutes had passed. Why did it feel like so much longer?

McKay's voice exploding in her ear made her violently jump with its very unexpectedness. On the edge of her vision, she saw the Johns go rigid as they got the transmission as well. For a moment no clear words came through, only an incoherent babble that sounded worried and frantic and most definitely out-of-control. She could hear Zelenka chattering incessantly in Czech in the background. Judging by the few words she could pick out, he was alternately yelling swear words and trying to calm Rodney down.

A sudden rock-hard lump of concern tried to block Elizabeth's throat. She swallowed it back, trying to project calmness as she responded to Rodney. She raised her voice only as much as necessary to be heard as she said: "Rodney, calm down! What is going on? I can't understand you, you're talking too fast!"

Hermiod said something. Rodney yelled: "_I know, shut up! I'm trying to tell her now._" The sound of a deep breath being sucked in came clearly through the headset. When the scientist spoke again, his voice was clear and low enough to understand, although the panic and fear still came vibrating through. "_We can't do this, Elizabeth! The stupid Ancients designed the blasted device with a failsafe that's a dead man's switch!_"

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	16. Battle Scars

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, parings, etc.

Part 16/24

**-Chapter 16-**

_Battle Scars_

**-Atlantis – Past-**

Elizabeth's heart nearly stopped. "What?" She felt her knees wobble as her mind scrabbled frantically, trying to take in the concept. To be so close to victory, only to be forced to watch it slip through their fingers – it was inconceivable!

Rodney was yelling again. "_A dead man's switch! The Ancients designed it so you have to _really want_ the power source to overload before it will -- thus, the switch. If it's released for even a moment, the failsafe reengages and releases the overload by sending you spinning off through time and space. For the overload to happen and follow through with the megaton boom, someone has to keep a finger on the switch to let the overload happen!_"

Elizabeth suppressed the urge to cover her face with her hands. Strong, be strong, she couldn't let anyone see how she was crumbling inside. _That means. . . Oh no. This can't be happening!_ "Rodney, stand by." She turned instinctively to her surest support in any crisis. "What do we do now?" She tried but failed to keep the panic out of her voice.

One John threw a quick look around the control room, took her by the arm and pulled her to the relative privacy of her office. The other followed only a few steps behind. As soon as they were in the glass enclosure, the one holding her arm spoke, his voice urgent, his eyes intense. "Elizabeth, you have to let me take a cloaked Jumper up! _I'll_ keep the pressure on the switch and allow the overload to happen. _We can still make this work_, but you have to let me do this!"

Elizabeth yanked her arm free from John's grasp and backed away, horrified. "Absolutely not! I've sent you on _one_ suicide mission: I can't send you on another!"

"There isn't any other way!" John's voice rose with hers. He visibly forced himself to take an emotional step back. When he spoke again, his tone was calm, and utterly implacable. "Someone has to rendezvous with _Daedalus_ in a Jumper, grab the Thing, get it over to the Hive ships, and detonate it. Who better than me? I can fly the ship, and as long as Rodney talks me through what I have to do, I can do this. After all, how hard can it be?"

Elizabeth could only shake her head numbly, heart and mind locked in frozen denial. _I can't_ – won't! – _accept this_! She wanted to scream the words, but her voice wouldn't work.

John leaned towards her slightly, and his words hammered at her. "Elizabeth, one way or another, the Thing is going to be destroyed: either because we choose to do it on our terms, or when the _Daedalus_ blows itself up. And when it goes, _I_ go. I'm gonna fade out, cease to exist, on account of some time anomaly paradox thing McKay could explain to you. There's no honor in that. So, please, I'm asking you, just let me do what I came back to do: Save Atlantis – and you."

Sheppard snagged her arm, turning her to face him. He grasped her shoulders. The fear and pain in his eyes as they met hers pierced through her heart into her very soul.

"Elizabeth, let him do this." He hesitated, seeming to struggle for the right words. "Trust me on this, it's the right thing to do. Just let -- him -- go."

Elizabeth felt overwhelmed, trapped between the proverbial rock and hard place. She closed her eyes and reached once more for the tatters of her inner strength. Stepping away from her own Sheppard, she made eye contact with John. She still couldn't speak aloud, but her lips shaped the one word: "Go."

A look of relief, almost of peace, swept over his face. Then, a tender smile curling his lips, he stepped forward to take her face between his hands and gently press a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, Elizabeth," he whispered as he drew back. He briefly caught his other self's eyes; a message passed, but she was too shaken to try to read it. He turned and left her office, running through the control room and up the steps to the Jumper bay.

Elizabeth remained standing where she was, her hands knotted into fists at her side. "John, please tell me I've made the right decision," she whispered in anguish.

His hand gently brushed her shoulder. He dared no further contact. "You did, Elizabeth. You did."

_If only I could make myself believe you, John._

_**-Atlantis – Past -**_

John dropped down into the pilot's seat of Jumper 2, watching as it powered up for him without his even thinking about it. The moment his hands touched the controls the obedient little ship slid out of its landing bay and lifted upwards through the retracting roof.

_Shield harmonics. Right. No point in crashing into the shield._ John kept up a running monologue in his mind as he cloaked the ship and adjusted its shield frequency to match Atlantis's. _ And that ought to-- Uh-oh. Did I do that?_

Just as he was about to fly through the shield, it suddenly fizzled and collapsed, barely clearing the bottom of the Jumper as he continued his steep ascent towards space. _Crap! What did I do wrong?_ He studied the readouts before him, seeing no error or danger messages.

The comm system beeped, alerting him to an incoming transmission. "_John, this is Elizabeth. Can you hear me?_"

He gulped, having a feeling he was in trouble. "Yes. Listen, about the shield, I'm sorry. I thought I was--"

Elizabeth interrupted him. "_It wasn't your fault. Just as you were getting ready to fly through the shield the ZPM power failed and the shield collapsed._"

_Oh crap._ This most definitely wasn't good: they were out of time. "Elizabeth, tell _Daedalus_ to move into an orbital defensive posture over the city. I'll rendezvous with them there."

Brief pause, then her voice was in his ear again. "Daedalus_ agrees. They're waiting to beam the time-travel device to the Jumper as soon as you get up there._" There was another pause. Then she said softly, "_John? Good luck._"

John swallowed hard. _I hope so._ "Thank you, Elizabeth. Jumper 2 out." His mind was already at work figuring how best to keep him hidden from the Wraith while decloaking the Jumper long enough for Rodney to beam the Thing aboard.

A thought struck. _Aha!_ If he stayed on the underside of the ship and only decloaked for just the two seconds it would take for the transport from _Daedalus_ to the Jumper, he might be nothing more than a ghost on the Hives' sensors -- if he even showed up at all. Hopefully the Wraith would be too busy fending off the _Daedalus_ to pay any attention to a vague sensor ghost.

John broke through the last vestiges of Atlantis's atmosphere and into space. He squinted a little in disbelief as a wave of black _things_ came towards him. _What the--_?

Comprehension hit as the HUD sprang to life over the windscreen. _Darts! They're getting ready to do an attack run on Atlantis and beam down their drones!_ John swore profusely. He tightened his hands on the controls, forcing himself to stay on his present course. He yearned to turn the ship around and follow the Darts down, to take out as many as he could. But he knew that was somebody else's mission. His was to keep focused on what only he could do. Atlantis needed him. _Elizabeth_ needed him. He couldn't fail her.

He clenched his teeth tightly as he watched the steady stream of Darts fly obliviously past him toward the unshielded city on the surface. He reassured himself that this time, the city had not been caught unawares. The F-302s, Jumpers, and rail guns should be able to shoot a large proportion of them down before they could do much damage. He sent an encouraging thought towards the pilots who, he knew, were even now hurtling to the city's defense: _You can do it, guys. You have to do it._

Only moments later, John flew the Jumper up to the belly of the _Daedalus_. He activated his comm. "_Daedalus_, this is Sheppard. I'm in position and ready to receive the time-travel device."

Rodney responded to him almost immediately. "_Understood. When I give you the signal, decloak so I can find you and beam the device over. As soon as it appears in the passenger seat, recloak so the Wraith won't detect you._"

"Yes, Rodney," John said with exaggerated patience, "I think I knew that." He poised his hand over the cloak control. "Ready when you are."

"_Okay. In three – two – one – now!_"

John punched the control. The ripple across the windscreen proved the cloak had been turned off. At the same moment, a bright flash appeared and as quickly faded on his right.

"_Turn the cloak back on!_"

"Already done." John had activated the cloak even before Rodney got the words out. He glanced at the Thing, pretending to be some harmless metal box sitting on the co-pilot's seat. He took a deep breath and focused his gaze back on the two Hive ships he could see from beyond the _Daedalus_' nose. "Okay, Rodney, I hope you're ready to talk me through what to do. Because we are _so_ going to do this."

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	17. The Fight

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 17/24

**-Chapter 17-**

_The Fight_

_**-Atlantis – Past -**_

"_Shield's down!_"

The message crackled through the headsets of Atlantis's defenders. F-302s rose from the outlying piers, joining the Jumpers issuing from their bay.

"_We got incoming!_"

Less than two minutes after the shield protecting Atlantis failed, fire blossomed patchily high up in the sky as the Jumpers and F-302s engaged the enemy. Although the oncoming swarm was greatly reduced, a frightening number still got past the aerial defense.

The rail guns began chattering. Their withering barrage shredded the airspace around Atlantis, as well as many of the Darts trying to penetrate it. Flaming wreckage pelted down on the city or crashed into the sea. Still, a significant number made it through. Harsh white beams swept across any available open space, depositing drone warriors who immediately went on the attack. Darts whined and screamed among the shining towers, firing on the defenders.

All the approaches to the control tower were covered by teams of Marines and SFs. The main entrance corridor to the Gateroom was most heavily defended, not only by Marines, but by Colonel Sheppard, the two Dexes and Teyla as well. No one doubted the Wraith's ultimate objective: Atlantis's Stargate – and Earth.

The grim reports began to come across the comm to those manning the final perimeter, the one that could in no way be allowed to collapse: a defensive position overwhelmed here, defenders forced into strategic retreat there. Hands flexed in their grips on weapons as the sounds of battle crept nearer and nearer.

Dex eased over to Ronon and spoke so only he could hear. "So, what now?" He slid a covert glance to where Sheppard and Teyla stood in front of the Gateroom's gracefully ornamental doors.

"Don't know; it's all different from here." He met Dex's eyes briefly. "We've already managed to change history, though. We're a long way from where--" He broke off, knowing he didn't have to finish the sentence. His jaw set. "She'll live through this. I swear she will."

Even as Dex nodded acknowledgement, the first band of retreating Marines and SFs backed into the corridor, and the battle was upon them.

Ronon bared his teeth, leveled his blaster, and began methodically exterminating Wraith drones. So much was on the line here; there was no way he was going to let the Wraith win! A detached part of his mind noticed other, equally precise blaster shots punctuating the raking fire of P90s and other, heavier Earth weaponry. Satisfaction surged through him, fiercely and irrationally, and totally adrenaline-fueled.

Teyla was suddenly there beside him. "We must hold here!" She gritted her teeth and sprayed P-90 fire into a fresh wave of drones charging towards them. "In your battle--"

"Like I just told _him_, it wasn't like this then." He concentrated momentarily on picking off a drone that was leaping over its fallen fellows. On the lefthand side of the corridor and a little behind their position, Dex was covering Sheppard as the latter quickly reloaded his weapon. But still, their efforts didn't seem to be enough. The Wraith were still coming, a seemingly endless wave of them threatening to inundate the Atlantians in a tide of slaughter so they could take Atlantis as theirs.

A Marine in the foremost line of defenders – Ronon recognized Lieutenant Avery – took a direct blast to his chest, his body sprawling backwards. In the gap left by his fall, he saw the Wraith who had killed him, weapon raised and talon poised to fire again. Even over all the noise, he seemed to hear the creature's hissing, saw the drone aim for a new target.

_Teyla._

An inarticulate roar burst from deep within him. He reached out his left hand, grabbing her by the collar of her tac vest. Twisting his upper body, he used his momentum to fling her towards his other self, even as he fired his blaster at the drone.

Pain exploded into his side under his ribs, pain like nothing he'd ever experienced even in his years as a Runner. His knees buckled; the impact from his body hitting the floor sent fresh waves of searing agony through him. He curled into a ball against the intensity of a hurt that threatened to blot out the world, his arms clenched against the terrible wound. He fought to breathe, and each labored breath was a guttural groan.

"Ronon!" Teyla's voice penetrated the fiery haze wrapping his mind and sucking his consciousness towards the darkness at its heart. "Ronon, _please_—"

He became aware of arms around his shoulders, lifting him, cradling him. Somehow, he found strength enough to force his eyes open a slit. Teyla's face drifted into focus, began to fade again. He saw her head turn to one side, lips moving. Dimly, he realized Sheppard and Dex were bending over him as well.

"Teyla." He could only manage the thinnest thread of a whisper; but it was enough. Her beautiful, much loved face turned back to him. He willed the hand on his uninjured side to lift so he could grip her arm with his hand. "'S okay. I don't. . .really. . .belong. . . here. . ."

Tears streaked down her cheeks, and the hurt of seeing her weep for him was worse than all his physical agony. He tried to look up at Dex; tried with all the fierceness of will that had carried him so far and sustained him so long to say, "Love her; cherish her—"

It was too much.

He let go of trying to focus through the gathering dark.

He let go of the pain.

He let go of life.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	18. Freedom Flight

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 18/24

**-Chapter 18-**

_Freedom Flight_

_**-Atlantis**_—Past_**-**_

"_Okay, Colonel, where are you?_" Rodney sounded edgy.

John gulped as the massive hull of a Hive filled the front windscreen of his Jumper. _I'd forgotten how _huge_ these things are._ "I'm working my way towards the final position, Rodney. ETA forty-three seconds. And by the way," he swept a glance across the HUD, "aren't you supposed to be faking away from the Hives right about now, so you can make the jump to hyperspace?"

"_Ah, well, there's been a slight change in plans. Rather than take the chance of having the Hives move too far apart by pursuing us, we're making the jump to hyperspace from here."_ McKay's voice had that studiously offhand quality that usually went straight through John.

It did this time, too. John gritted his back teeth together. "I thought we were trying to _save_ the planet, McKay!"

"_Radek agrees that the risk is minimal, well within acceptable limits._" A background mutter reached John's ears through the headset. Rodney added nonchalantly, _"Hermiod agrees, too."_

John rolled his eyes briefly. He soon sobered as he moved past the looming Hive and came to a stop, surrounded on three sides by Hive ships: the perfect position.

He made sure that the Jumper was in the exact location required. "Okay, I'm here." He reached over the DHD console and picked up the Thing. Gingerly he set it down on the control panel in front of him. He knew jarring it wouldn't set it off, but felt an instinctive wariness all the same. "I've got the Thing. Now what do I do?"

Rodney was trying hard to keep his tone matter-of-fact, but John clearly heard the underlying strain. "_I've already switched the two crystals that need to be put in each other's slots. All you have to do is press and hold down on them. The device should emit a hum, which will get increasingly louder as the power buildup increases and it starts to overload. The crystals should start flashing, too._"

John pulled out the crystal drawer and then stared at all the identical pieces, two rows of seven crystals. What was he supposed to do here, read McKay's mind? "Which two, Rodney? There're fourteen!"

"_Third crystal from the left on the top row and the one all the way to the right on the bottom. Just press and hold them down, and then all you'll have to do is wait._"

_Right, wait._ John could do that; he'd been doing it for the past -- or would that be future? -- four months. What was another few minutes on top of that? His mind went to the beleaguered city on the planet below. "Uh, Rodney, about how long will it take?"

McKay cleared his throat. "_Not all that long, really – we estimate detonation occurs after five minutes or so. I'll contact you again one minute before we jump to hyperspace. Detonation will occur about ten seconds after that._" There was a moment of silence, and then a brisk: "_Now just hold down those crystals and wait._"

"Thanks. Jumper 2 out." John automatically checked the time on his watch and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants before he reached out his hands. He applied gentle pressure to the crystals; then pressed harder until he heard a definite click. That's when the Las Vegas light show started, accompanied by a bass hum that jarred up his arms all the way to his back teeth.

For a while he just watched the blinking lights and listened to the hum, not really thinking about this as the end for him. He wasn't afraid to die; it was like he told Elizabeth, he didn't want to just fade out of existence; he wanted to go out _doing_ something positive. And he was -- this way he _knew_ that she and Atlantis would be safe. He could have peace with that.

He felt his palms beginning to sweat again; only this time it wasn't from nerves. _What in the--?_ The crystals were heating up, rapidly approaching the point of discomfort and passing it. He felt his palms begin to blister.

John clenched his teeth against the pain and forced himself to keep his hands on the crystals. _I don't care if these things burn holes in my palms, I've got to do this. I have to be strong, I have to save Atlantis -- I have to save Elizabeth!_ He tried to stop thinking about how much it hurt. _I can do this I can do this I can do this _I can do this!

Without consciously willing it, he got to his feet and hunched over the Thing, using his body weight to keep adequate pressure on the crystals. The agony built and built; surely his hands were actually beginning to char. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears oozing out and trickling down his cheeks. _Rodney, please hurry!_

Almost as though he'd heard John's desperate plea, the comm activated: "_Colonel, you still there?_"

"Have you heard a big boom yet, McKay?" John snarled back, not even trying to keep the pain out of his voice.

"_What's wrong? What's happening?_" Alarm vibrated through Rodney's voice.

"The crystals have gotten really hot and are burning my hands. _Please_ tell me it's almost ready to detonate."

"_Yes. You've got about forty seconds left now. We're just getting ready to jump to hyperspace._"

John grimaced and gasped for air, making himself open his eyes and look at his watch. _Forty seconds – less now -- I can do this!_ "Glad to hear that. And Rodney: thanks."

McKay's voice, awkward with emotion, came to him one last time. "No, we thank _you_. And Colonel – it's been an honor serving with you."

Out the windscreen, John watched as the _Daedalus_ suddenly leaped through a hyperspace window, leaving the Hives with nothing to fire on.

_Please don't change positions,_ he inwardly pleaded as he ticked down the seconds on his watch. _We're so close to victory, and I can't fly the ship as long as both hands are occupied with this._

John closed his eyes again, mentally starting the ten-second countdown as he escaped to his memories with Elizabeth. _Ten._

Arriving in Atlantis, and the absolute wonder in her eyes when she looked up at him on the balcony. She'd been standing on the Gateroom floor, a magnum of champagne in her hands and an enraptured expression on her face.

_Nine._

The flirty smile on her face when she'd teased him about football not long after they'd come to Atlantis. She'd perched on the back of the couch and reached out to snitch a few kernels of popcorn from his bowl. That was when John first saw her as the beautiful woman she was.

_Eight._

Movie night, only six short months before she'd died. It had been "Princess Bride," and she'd sat next to him, so close their shoulders brushed. Every now and then she'd reached into the bowl of popcorn he quite willingly shared with her. By the end her head had come to rest on his shoulder, the dreamy smile on her lips telling him that she was a true romantic at heart—just like him.

_Seven._

The peaceful look her face wore whenever they stood side-by-side on their balcony gazing over their city. The peace and tranquility of those moments had been one of the fonder memories that John escaped to after Elizabeth died. When he thought he could go on no longer, he went to their balcony, closed his eyes, and remembered.

_Six._

Her laughter, dancing with the soft breeze across the flower-filled field to whisper in his ear; it made him smile even now. The teasing glint in her eyes as she threw her face upwards, shouting gleefully to the cloudless sky. That day off-world remained one of his favorite memories. Seeing her lighthearted and carefree was something he didn't witness often, but he treasured those few precious moments most in his heart every time he did.

_Five._

The look of surprise and pleasure on her face when she unwrapped the Athosian pot he'd given her for her first birthday in Atlantis. It still sat on her desk in this timeline; he'd sneaked it out of her office to his quarters after she died in his.

_Four._

The expression of simple pleasure on her face when he'd bring her coffee late at night, sitting down across the desk from her to share the warm brew and company. He teased and distracted her until she gave up and let him escort her to her room for some sleep. He figured she would sneak back out after he went to bed, but he let it go because it was what she wanted to do. So he'd said nothing about his suspicions and let her think she'd gotten away with her scheme.

_Three._

The night of the Harvest Festival on the mainland, only two weeks before she'd died. The red-gold light of the large campfire made her skin and eyes glow, painting a halo around her hair and dancing on her face. She'd been so beautiful.

_Two._

The bittersweet kiss he'd bestowed upon her the last time he'd seen his Elizabeth alive. It was his most cherished memory. Only then had he realized how much he loved her. Ultimately, his realization had come too late for him. But not for the other version of himself; for him, it had come just in time.

_One._

The nerve endings in his hands had burned away, leaving him sweat-drenched, but blessedly free of pain. One final thought took shape: _Elizabeth, I will _forever_ love you._

Flash of intolerable brightness.

The light took him.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	19. Heartache

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 19/24

**-Chapter 19-**

_Heartache_

_**-Atlantis – Past-**_

Teyla flung herself to her knees beside the Ronon of the future. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of the horrific wound in his side; but she activated her headset and snapped an order into it. "_Doctor Beckett! We need you in the Gateroom access corridor at once!_"

A big hand reached down past her and scooped up Ronon's blaster. She glanced up wildly, and saw what so many, many Wraith had seen just before their deaths: the Runner they had created, the berserker they had unleashed to their own bane. And beyond him Colonel Sheppard, his face set in a mask no less frightening because of its coldness.

"Stay with him," Sheppard ordered. Then he and Ronon advanced down the hallway, weapons firing nonstop. The Marines and SFs poured after them, no longer merely trying to defend, but relentlessly attacking. In what seemed a bewilderingly short space of time, the corridor was clear.

Very carefully, Teyla reached out and wrapped her arms around the fallen Ronon's shoulders, lifting until his head rested against her shoulder. As he fought to breathe, she felt her lungs strain with almost equal effort. Dimly, she realized Sheppard and Dex had returned, to hover just behind her.

"Ronon." His name wrenched out of her. "Ronon, _please_—" She turned her head slightly to speak to the two men behind her. "Where is Doctor Beckett? We need him now!"

His eyes opened the barest slit, tracking dimly side-to-side before seeming to focus on her face. The merest thread of sound passed his lips. "Teyla." Her full attention jerked back to him. He shuddered in her arms as he tried to draw in air enough to speak again. One hand came up – so slowly! -- to grip her arm. "'S okay. I. . .don't. . .really. . . belong. . . here. . ."

Teyla clasped Ronon even more tightly to her, weeping, as he slowly faded away from her and reality. She wasn't even sure if he recognized her anymore, the look in his eyes spoke only of the barest recognition past the pain. She was so cold, she couldn't stop shaking. She didn't want him to die. It was too close to home, too much like her own Ronon dying in her arms. She couldn't bear to lose him, either of them. _Please, Ronon, do not die._ But Teyla couldn't get the words past her throat.

Ronon's breathing was ragged and uneven. When it hitched she nearly cried out. But he drew in another, his eyes moving past her to his other self. They were glassy with agony, but his grip on her arm still was powerful. He squeezed hard, as if drawing strength from her to speak to himself one last time. His lips moved, barely shaping the words, "Love her, cherish her—"

She whimpered slightly, feeling like everything inside her was breaking. _Why?_

And just like that, he was gone.

"_NO!_" The word tore from her throat as his fingers fell away from her arm and his entire body went limp against her. "No, no, no, please no." She closed her eyes and shook her head in denial. "Ronon--"

A reverberating sound like thunder began, rumbled closer, then boomed so loudly the floor quaked and the windows rattled. Teyla instinctively hunched herself over Ronon's body, feeling Dex press against her in an automatic gesture of protection.

The weight in her arms lifted ever so slightly. Her eyes snapped open. She raised her head just in time to see his body fading out, like the final frozen image in one of the romantic movies her teammates from Earth enjoyed so much. His body grew lighter and lighter as his image grew dimmer and dimmer, until he utterly vanished.

Teyla stared in shock at her empty arms, wondering for a moment if he had even been real or if she was having some sort of nightmare. She could almost believe it a terrible dream, if not for the bloodstains that covered the front of her jacket and one sleeve, and the bloody handprint on the other.

"Ronon--" It was a plea for reassurance of her own sanity.

Looking quite disturbed, the Ronon of her timeline wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, heedless of the bloodstains. Colonel Sheppard crouched down next to them. He put a hesitant hand on her shoulder and said in a voice thick with emotion, "That shockwave must have been from the time travel device detonating." He swallowed hard and leaned closer. "They both did what they came to do, Teyla, and now the timeline is restoring itself to what should have been."

Footsteps pounded across the Gateroom behind them. The doors whooshed open, and Doctor Beckett rushed up to them. His eyes swept over them and widened; then he was on his knees beside them, opening his medical bag with one hand and reaching for Teyla. "Easy, lass," he crooned soothingly, "it'll be all right now. Where are ye hurt?

Teyla shook her head, saying raggedly, "The blood is not mine. I am fine." A broken sob slipped past her control. She turned her face into Dex's chest.

His arms tightened around her. He looked at Beckett over her head, saying, "The other me. He -- died."

"He saved me." Teyla spoke the words softly into her Ronon's shirt. "He died saving me, and then he -- left."

"Ascended?" Beckett sounded surprised.

"No." Dex didn't have to say more.

"Ah-h." Carson gave a long Scots sigh. "They did it then." It was a simple statement, but it held such a strong meaning.

Sheppard pushed to his feet. "Yeah. I'd better get to Elizabeth."

Teyla barely noticed his departure. She just drew herself up into a huddle and let the unending tears come.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	20. Repercussions

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 20/24

**-Chapter 20-**

_Repercussions_

_**-Atlantis**_ _**–**_ _**Past-**_

The John Sheppard of the past—now the present— slung his P90 over his shoulder and took the steps up to the control room by twos and threes, anxiety driving his movements. He didn't know for sure why he was in such a hurry. He knew the control room hadn't been penetrated by the Wraith; Elizabeth had to be safe. But he couldn't shake his uneasiness.

The room was in an uproar. Technicians leaned over darkened consoles, jabbering to each other in science speak. John checked up just inside the entrance, his eyes sweeping the room, seeking Elizabeth.

All activity abruptly ceased as his presence was noted, all the chatter going absolutely silent. Every military tech sprang simultaneously to attention, hands snapping up in salutes. Every civilian tech stood equally straight and still.

_Oh, this is definitely so weird! Why--?_ Then, as the solemn expressions registered, realization dawned: The transmissions between _Daedalus_ and Jumper 2 had naturally been monitored up here.

A muscle in his jaw jerked twice as he returned salute. "As you were," he said quietly. Postures immediately relaxed; but no one spoke or resumed their repairs until he had crossed to the short hallway leading to Elizabeth's office. He paused just outside the doorway, feeling an unaccustomed diffidence settle over him.

She was sitting at her desk, staring blankly at her computer screen. She looked pale and exhausted, the fragile skin under her eyes dark as bruises. Her slender shoulders, usually so confidently straight, sagged as if beneath an intolerably heavy burden; and she held her left hand cradled in her right just below her heart, as if nursing an injury.

He must have made some sound; or perhaps it was just the intensity of his gaze that brought her back to awareness of her surroundings. He saw her shiver once, very hard, and then her jade green eyes focused on him.

"John!" She stood up quickly, hurrying around her desk toward him. It sparked within him the memory of another time, after a similar crisis, when she had rushed to meet him. But she stopped just as quickly a couple of paces away. She wrapped her arms around her midriff, her manner unexpectedly stiff and awkward. "I'm glad to see you're okay."

Though he absolutely ached to grab her and hold her, he took his cue from her. "I'm fine, but what about you?" He tipped his head towards her tightly folded arms. "What's wrong with your hand?"

Elizabeth looked startled for a moment. "Oh! No, no, it's okay. I'm fine." She held up her left hand towards him, briefly turning the reddened palm up towards him before tucking it back into the crook of her right arm. "See? It's just a first degree burn. I had my hand on one of the consoles when it shorted out. Honestly, it just stung for a few minutes, and doesn't even hurt--"

Her voice broke on the word. He saw how close her self-control was to shattering. He took an involuntary step toward her, feeling a protest welling up within him. _Oh, Elizabeth! Why did you have to listen and hear that?_

But he knew the answer, of course. She was Atlantis's leader. As she would see it, she had given the order; she wouldn't shirk the consequences.

Not for the first time in their relationship, John regretted that he was not good with words. As he tried to find something, _anything_, to say, she gave her head a sharp shake and sucked a ragged breath. Without looking at him again, she walked past him, through the control room and out onto the balcony. John instantly followed.

Elizabeth went straight to the railing. Bracing her hands against it, she stared up into a sky free now of attackers. Her shoulders were tight; her entire posture fairly shouted, _Just leave me alone!_

He couldn't do that. But he couldn't force himself on her either. He stopped just outside her personal space: far enough away to give her some privacy yet close enough to be immediately there when she needed him. She always struggled whenever a death occurred among the expedition forces. Time after time after time he'd seen it, and known it on some gut-deep level for one of the qualities that made her such a great leader. Seeing it never got any easier, though; and he dreaded having to answer the question he knew would inevitably come.

Watching her, he saw the exact moment when she gathered enough inner strength to ask it. She didn't look around, only bowed her head and uttered a single word. "Ronon?"

There was no way to say it that would spare her added pain, so he came straight out with it. "He took a Wraith blast meant for Teyla. He died."

She flinched as if the words were a blow across her back. "Teyla?"

John passed a tired hand over his face at the memory. "She's – pretty shaken up, but otherwise okay. Our Ronon is with her."

Elizabeth finally turned her head toward him slightly. John took this as a kind of invitation; he moved over to lean against the railing as well. Their shoulders barely brushed, and he was glad when Elizabeth didn't flinch away from the contact. He watched the emotions flicker across her face, a kaleidoscope of sentiments he knew she wouldn't let anyone else ever see.

"I know they did what they wanted to do, what they intended to do." Her voice was barely louder than the ceaseless sea sounds reaching the balcony from far, far below. "I know they came back to save Atlantis, to save lives. But, John, I can't help but wonder: _was it really worth the terribleness of the price they paid?"_

He saw the fragile façade barely holding her together start to crumble.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	21. Past Present, Future Perfect

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 21/24

**-Chapter 21-**

_Past Present, Future Perfect_

_**-Atlantis – Future-**_

_Come on, come on, can we just get on with this?_ Doctor. McKay sat in one of the chairs in front of Sylvia Peterson's desk, half turned away from her to stare out into the control room, his mouth folded obstinately shut. He always found these daily progress reports acutely uncomfortable. Not even to himself could he admit the reason for it: continued mourning of the loss of Elizabeth Weir.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Doctor Peterson rub her forehead with the hand not holding the data pad. The sound of a faint sigh reached his ears. _No, Doctor, the news isn't good,_ he thought spitefully. _The news is never going to be good. Deal with it._ She leaned forward slightly as if preparing to address him. He suddenly scrambled to his feet, eyes bulging, mouth gaping at what he saw happening.

The normal technicians that manned the few remaining working consoles were still there, attending to their duties. _But now among them stood other figures, these having a ghostly projection effect that reminded Rodney of badly-made horror movies!_

He flapped his hands wildly, gesturing for Doctor Peterson to look, _look_. "You see that, don't you, Doctor?" he questioned excitedly, wondering if he was going crazy; or if his, Sheppard, and Dex's insane gamble was actually paying off.

Sylvia nodded distractedly, her gaze on the scene in the control room. "Yes, Doctor, I do. What is going on?"

Rodney watched the figures slowly begin to solidify, blending in with the technicians already in the room, some of whom began fading out. The new arrivals, he realized, the ones who had arrived on the _Odyssey_ to replace lost personnel. The very fabric of the tower rippled around them as consoles dark and dead for months came alive again. Grabbing Doctor Peterson's arm, he dragged her out from behind her desk and across the bridge into the control room. His mind was a jumble of comments all needing to be voiced at once. He all but jumped up and down in his excitement.

Sylvia had a detached fascination in her eyes as she stared at the scene. Shaking off his grasp, she turned to look at him. "What is happening?" she demanded again, her voice faint and warped as though coming from a great distance.

Rodney smiled, the most sincere smile that had ever stretched his lips, relief and joy bursting through him in a way he'd never experienced before. "They did it, they did it! They've managed to restore the timeline, and history is patching itself back together to the way it should have been. Oh, my, oh, my, isn't this just glorious." He took several steps away from her

The dark-haired diplomat stepped away in the other direction. She, too, was fading in and out as she turned in a complete circle.

Rodney caught a flicker of movement off to his right. He spun in that direction and saw through the stained-glass windows that two figures were standing on the balcony, which had been empty only seconds before. He abandoned the strange sight in the control room and ran to the door. It automatically opened at his approach. He rocked to a stop, feeling as if his heart would burst.

Not quite fully solid yet, John and Elizabeth stood by the railing where they had so often leaned side-by-side. Weir's back was to the door; she was clinging to the Colonel, her face buried in John's chest. Sheppard, for his part, had his arms just as tightly around Elizabeth, one hand resting on her lower back, the other twined in her dark hair. His head was bent protectively, even tenderly, over hers.

John looked up, and his gaze locked with Rodney's. He had tears in his eyes, but Rodney somehow knew that they were good tears.

_Oh yes, _this_ is the real Atlantis._ McKay didn't voice the thought, though. The moment was too deep, too sacred for mere words. At that same instant, he realized he was fading out, too.

Sheppard smiled that crooked flyboy grin that used to grate on Rodney's nerves; then offered him a slight chin up motion. _Good job, McKay._

_I did it_, Rodney thought. He paused, a small smile curling his lips as his last thought proudly took shape in his mind. _No -- _we_ did it._

_**-Atlantis – Present-**_

"_. . .Was it really worth the terribleness of the price they paid?"_

He saw the fragile façade barely holding her together start to crumble. The question hung in the air between them – a cry straight from a heart on the verge of breaking. John examined his own heart for an answer, and offered her the truth he found there.

"Yes, Elizabeth, it was." His voice carried a quiet conviction that made her straighten and turn to face him. "I can speak for him; I _know._ He believed he could do nothing greater in his life than to prevent the tragedy he'd lived through from ever happening. He died knowing he'd accomplished the mission he'd set for himself: to save Atlantis, and you. Believe me; he was totally at peace with what he had to do. And I believe Ronon will say the same thing holds true for his future self."

Her eyes, probing deeply into his, filled with tears; her lips quivered. He opened his arms to her, and with them his heart. There would be no more hiding of his feelings from her, he vowed, no more pretending they didn't even exist. He'd been given a second chance, one indeed bought at a terrible price. He wouldn't squander it.

_Oh, John._ Her lips were barely able to shape the words; no sound at all came out. She came willingly into his embrace, clinging to him as if to life itself. As his arms closed around her, she buried her face in his chest and began weeping, all her pent-up emotions flowing out of her with her tears. John bent his head over hers to rest his lips against her dark hair. He felt his own eyes grow wet.

Across the balcony from him, the door opened. He lifted his head and saw Rodney standing just outside the doorway. But – McKay was still off somewhere on the _Daedalus_, wasn't he? And something else was most certainly wrong -- John could see right through him!

Their eyes locked across the intervening space. McKay looked as startled as John felt for a moment. The Canadian got a look on his face like John had never seen before: totally open, radiant with heartfelt joy, reverent even.

John smiled back and gave the scientist a chin-up motion. _Good job, McKay._

Rodney smiled again, a strong, proud smile, and faded completely away.

John lowered his face again to hide it in Elizabeth's hair. He knew he'd just been given final proof of the success of his future self, Ronon, and Rodney's incredible plan.

_Thanks._ He offered the thought to the sky above him, not knowing what else he could possibly say. The word hardly covered the boundless gratitude he had inside him. The visitors from the future had by their sacrifice not only given him back Atlantis; they'd given him something even more precious, a chance at a life with Elizabeth.

He looked back up at the sky and amended his comment. _Thanks -- for everything._

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	22. A Time to Heal

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 22/24

**-Chapter 22-**

_A Time to Heal_

_**-Atlantis – Present-**_

Ronon stood before the door to Teyla's quarters. His hand hovered an inch away from the door chime as he debated whether or not to disturb her. After all, it was very late. If she had taken the sedatives Beckett had insisted on giving her, she might actually be getting some much needed sleep. He started to pull his hand back, and hesitated.

He remembered being alone after Melena's death, with no family, no comrades to share his mourning. In fact, for the next seven years he'd been alone with only the cold comfort of his bitter grief and hate. His jaw knotted. No one should ever have to mourn alone.

He rang the chime and waited for her either to call for him to come in, or for her to come to the door.

Nothing happened.

Ronon gently rapped his knuckles against the door. "Teyla," he called softly, "it's me, Ronon."

Teyla's voice, so faint he almost couldn't hear it, reached him. "Go away."

At a different point in his life, he might have done that. Not now, though, and hopefully not ever again. "Teyla, I'm worried about you. Are you okay?"

"I told you to go away!" There was a resounding thump against the inside of the door.

He sighed deeply. "Teyla, if you're not decent, tell me now, because I'm coming in!" He waited for a second. Silence. Taking it for permission, he hit the door control and entered her room.

The lights in the corridor outside had been dimmed down for the night, but they seemed bright compared to the near darkness of Teyla's quarters. For a moment after the door closed behind him, his eyes registered nothing but blackness. The only light was the weak moonlight coming in through the windows, and the golden glow of a single lit candle sitting on her bedside table.

Once his eyes adjusted, he immediately saw that Teyla's bed was empty. He swept the room with his gaze and spotted Teyla sitting in the farthest corner of the room. She had her legs drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. She wore the loose pants and sleeveless top she slept in, her hair hanging damply around her face. Faint though the light was, it glistened from the tears still sliding silently down her haggard cheeks.

"Teyla. . ." The sight of her broke his heart. He crossed the room and hunkered down on his heels directly in front of her.

She glared at him for a heartbeat, then another, and a third. Her shoulders slumped and she rested her forehead against her knees while putting her arms over her head. "I told you to go away," she growled, her voice muffled.

Ronon watched her with thoughtful, concerned eyes, knowing it would be a mistake to try to touch her just yet. Well, he'd been like that once; he'd spent years rejecting human contact. The memory of that angry, lonely time vibrated along his nerves. "I can't do that, Teyla. You shouldn't be alone right now."

"I _want_ to be alone! Go away!"

"No." He uttered that single syllable gently, but inexorably. "Teyla, I want to help you. Please, let me help."

She laughed bitterly, sounding so much unlike her that it hurt. She curled in even tighter on herself. "You cannot." Her voice jerked out in barely audible gasps. "You do not understand. After," she gulped, "after the other night, the morning before the Wraith came, I woke and I was so happy. I made a promise to myself to cherish you for every moment we had together. But when I made it, _I_ expected to be the one to die. I know, I know, it was selfish of me, I see that so clearly now. And then I watched the other you die in my arms, and in such agony–" A tremendous shuddering went through her body. "You will hate me now because I am a coward, a selfish coward, but I do not – think – I am strong enough – to face – _that_ – again."

She looked so small and fragile sitting there, so much like if one more thing went wrong she would break. He ached with the need to gather her into his arms; gripping his hands together tightly, he resisted it, knowing it was still too soon. Instead he said quietly, "You're wrong, Teyla. I do understand. When I said those words the other night, I was talking about _him_. But now I'm saying them about you. Look at me." Slowly, she raised her face from her arms, compelled by the intensity in his voice. "I remember confessing to cowardice then, but _you_ didn't let that turn you away from _me_."

He eased forward onto his knees and placed his hands on them, feeling in his heart that everything hung on the frail thread of his words. "Do you remember what you said next?" Still held by his gaze, she gave the tiniest of nods. "You said that perhaps our future would be given back to us. And it has been. Yes, it cost everything he had to give; and yes, one day one of us may have to face losing the other. But I've lived both sides of that story, Teyla Emmagan, and I'm telling you: I would rather take that risk than go back to being the way I was for so long after Melena died." He stopped speaking, all but holding his breath, his eyes still locked on hers. The silence stretched out between them.

A shattering sob burst from Teyla. She hurled herself at him so suddenly he barely got his arms up in time to catch her. Her arms wrapped around his neck in a stranglehold as she hid her face against him.

Ronon gently gathered her into his arms. Rising effortlessly to his feet, he carried her across the room to her bed. He sat down, holding her on his lap, one hand moving over her back in a steady, soothing rhythm, feeling her salty tears warm against his neck and down his chest. "I love you, Teyla Emmagan," he whispered time and again into her hair. "I love you."

Gradually, Teyla's sobbing eased, her body shuddering less and less often. Still Ronon cradled her close as all the tension ebbed from her body. Her jerky breathing evened out, slow, slow, slower. Her arms slackened around his neck, though she did not completely release her hold.

She slept.

Moving very carefully, he hitched along the bed until he could lean back against the headboard. He lifted one leg at a time, stretching them out along the mattress. Teyla shifted a little, her breath puffing out softly across his heart. She settled again, her slight body a sweet and precious weight in his arms.

"I love you, Teyla," he whispered again, hoping the words would wind their way into her dreams. "I love you."

Their world was right for now. For at least this moment, he chose to continue to believe that it always would be.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	23. Remember Me

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 23/24

**-Chapter 23-**

_Remember Me_

**-Atlantis – Present-**

Sunlight poured through the Gateroom's beautiful stained-glass windows. It illuminated the crowd gathered there and the two banners hanging in front of the Stargate. One was an American flag; the other one Satedan, obtained from Ronon's former comrade Solen.

John and Ronon lost the argument over whether a memorial service should be even be held at all. Elizabeth – and surprisingly, Colonel Caldwell – firmly overruled all their objections, pointing out that everyone, from the expedition members to the Athosians to the crew of the _Daedalus_, needed to commemorate the two men who had saved them.

It was Caldwell, in fact, who finally cut the ground completely from under their feet. He pinned each of them in turn with his hard, dark eyes and said, "You're both soldiers. You both know the importance of tradition in maintaining the morale of those who serve. The memorial is scheduled for thirteen hundred hours tomorrow. You will both be there."

The Gateroom itself and the entire control room level, as well as the steps leading up to it., were packed an hour before the memorial service was to begin, the overflow spilling out into one of the access corridors. The space directly in front of the Gate was left open, where a low podium and lectern had been set up just outside the vortex safety zone.

Five minutes before the stroke of the hour, the leaders of the Atlantis expedition, civilian and military, filed into the Gateroom, accompanied by Colonel Caldwell and Hermiod, and took their places to the right of the Gate. At thirteen hundred hours exactly, two honor guards, drawn from the crew of the _Daedalus_, paced in solemn cadence into the room, beginning the memorial service proper.

Elizabeth stepped up to the podium placed out from the two flags, her expression reserved yet somehow serene. She slowly scanned the crowd from one side of the room to the other before she spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen, we gather here today to pay our final respects to two men who not only proved their bravery and loyalty to this city and her people; but also proved that love and commitment can truly overcome any obstacle." She paused for a moment, then continued in a surprisingly strong voice. "We gather here to honor a Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard and a Specialist Ronon Dex, both of whom overcame incredible odds in their journey from the future. They came to bring us warning of an imminent and terrible danger; they gave their lives to save Atlantis and her people from that danger. For that I know we all will be forever grateful to them. The memory of them and what they did for us will stay in our hearts for the rest of our lives." She stepped down from the podium and returned to her place.

Rodney, looking a great deal more nervous than Elizabeth, took her place on the podium. "Um, well, as you all know, eloquence has never been my strong suit. However, I asked Elizabeth if I could give the future John Sheppard's eulogy, because I have some things to say to him and about him that I never got to say when he was still alive. I think they need to be said now." Rodney shuffled his feet a bit and discreetly tugged at the collar of his suit. "Colonel Sheppard did more than just save Atlantis -- he made us, made _me_ realize. . ." He paused and cleared his throat. For a brief, panicked second he wondered why he was doing this, and if it were too late to get out of it. But no: this needed to be said, and he was going to say it. "I struggled with this, wondering what I could possibly say about this man that would be worthy of him and his heroic actions. I can say this: he made me realize that Atlantis is my home, the place I truly belong, and that everyone here is _family_. Families stick together; they look out for each other; and sometimes they actually give their lives for each other. Sheppard felt that way about his Atlantis; and I believe that's how we all feel about ours." He turned from the crowd to face the American flag. "So I thank you, Colonel." He lowered his voice so he could speak only to the memory of Sheppard. "Thank you -- for everything."

He yielded the podium to Teyla, who gave him a quick, approving smile as they exchanged places. She looked out at all the soberly attentive faces.

"We are here today to honor two great men. Dr. McKay has already told you of one; I am here to speak of the other. Ronon Dex was a complex man: determined, passionate, marked deeply by the destruction of one home world, and unwilling to see another destroyed by the same evil. To stop that, he was willing to die a hundred times over to assure that we were all safe." She paused, looking over the faces again. "Though he did not die a natural death, he died for a noble cause. For that reason, my people and I offer to his memory – to both their memories – our Ring Ceremony." Soft music began to play just outside the Gateroom. As strings thrummed and a pipe took up a haunting counterpoint, Teyla lifted her voice in strong, clear song.

The last notes died away. She returned to her spot among her teammates. A Marine in full dress uniform stepped forward and raised a trumpet to his lips. As the haunting strains of _Taps_ echoed through the reverently silent Gateroom, the two honor guards received the flags that were carefully lowered into their waiting hands. They snapped the flags crisply, folding them with the expertise of men and women well-practiced.

The Satedan flag was pressed into Teyla's arms and saluted, as the American flag was presented to Elizabeth. Doctor Weir preserved her calm gravity. However, as volleys of drones were released from their supply in salute to their fallen heroes, Teyla couldn't help the two tears that slipped down her cheeks; or the thought that hope should not have to hurt this much.

_**To Be Continued. . .**_


	24. Epilogue

Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 24/24

**-Epilogue-**

_**-Atlantis – One Year Later -**_

"So much has changed this past year," Elizabeth said softly as she and John went out onto the little balcony outside their quarters. She sighed heavily, her gaze lifting automatically to the extravagantly starred sky.

"Most of it for the better," John reminded her. Putting his arms around her, he drew her back against him and rested his head against hers. He laid a very gentle hand on her barely-swollen stomach. "You all packed and ready to go in the morning?"

"I am, almost." She rested her hand over John's, her thumb idly brushing over his wedding band, enjoying his nearness. "It'll be nice to have a few days off." She sounded a little pensive, though.

John puffed a breath of laughter into her hair. "And we'll still be within easy reach on the mainland, just in case the newbie decides that she can't handle the stress."

Elizabeth turned in his arms to slide her own around his waist and grinned. She looked the most relaxed he'd seen her in months -- well, at least since they got back from their honeymoon. "What, you don't trust Dr. Peterson to run Atlantis for the next few days?"

John hesitated. "Elizabeth, don't get me wrong, taking some time off with you for our sixth-month anniversary is great. But I can't help but think that no one can run Atlantis as well as you do."

She smiled, a blush turning her cheeks pink as she buried her face in his shirt. "You flatter me too much," she mumbled into his chest. "That's not healthy."

"For who, you or me?"

"Whom," Elizabeth teasingly corrected him. "And for either of us."

They lapsed into comfortable silence. John sighed quietly and closed his eyes, tipping his head to the side to rest it against Elizabeth's. Since the defeat of the Wraith attack a year ago, all the Wraith ships that were left had steered very clear of Atlantis. It appeared as though they'd gotten the message: the Earthlings were not the Ancients. They would go to any length to protect their city, and they would stubbornly refuse to take defeat as an answer and run. John knew not to get cocky until the rest of the Hives had been destroyed, but he also knew that that same stubbornness would help them defeat the rest of the Wraith.

Granted, he knew the defeat of the Wraith would open a power vacuum in the galaxy, inviting the inevitable power struggle over who would fill it. But at the moment he was content to leave those concerns to others. For now, he was just happy to take the gift he'd been given, spending time with his wife and letting the future worry about itself.

Focusing his eyes on the two brightest stars in the sky, he smiled and softly whispered: "Thanks, guys."

_**-Atlantis – Present-**_

"We are getting married." Teyla's voice was hushed, awed, when she spoke.

Ronon smiled into her hair, feeling much the same way she sounded. "Yep. We are." He had willingly waited almost a year for her to agree to his marriage proposal. Dealing with the events of a year ago had been a long and difficult struggle for her, not to be easily resolved in a night or a week or a month. For a while it seemed as if every time she made progress in her battle with her deepest fear, something would happen on a mission to shake her hard-won confidence. He'd stayed patient, loving her and never doubting her love for him; and he never stopped believing that the wound on her soul would finally heal.

And now the time had come: she'd accepted his marriage proposal, and they'd officially announced their betrothal.

The thought amazed him. Teyla had seen him at his berserker darkest; yet she still loved him, still wanted to marry him. He loved her all the more for it; though he knew that she was not perfect herself—no one was, not even the highly revered Ancestors—he still couldn't help but hope that none of his _darker_ undertones would ever rub off on her.

"Stop it, Ronon."

He jumped a little guiltily. "Stop what?" He had never been good at "innocent."

She tipped her head up to look him in the eyes. "Stop tearing yourself down. You are a good man, and I love you just the way you are."

Ronon sighed. "You have a good heart, Teyla Emmagan. I love you," he buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes, "always."

They stood for a long time in close embrace, savoring each other's presence and the peace of the night. Ronon's mind drifted, bits and pieces of memories swirling idly in the back of his consciousness. A deep feeling of gratitude suffused him.

"Things have changed a lot this past year," he finally murmured. "I wonder--" He hesitated, feeling almost embarrassed to go on. "Sometimes I wonder if _they_ know."

Teyla pulled away slightly so she could tilt her head up to look him in the eye. Her expression was very serious. "I like to think they do. And that they are pleased that so much of it has been for the better."

Ronon nodded, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. Definitely for the better." He bent his head down and kissed her then, while sending a silent thought to the skies above. _Thank you—for everything._

Suddenly Teyla gasped a little and pulled away, her head jerking towards the door that led back into the city.

Ronon swallowed back the foreboding that suddenly leaped into his throat, pushing away all the contented feelings from just a few seconds earlier. "Teyla? What's wrong?" He took her face between his big hands and gently forced her attention back in his direction.

Something dark and terrified lingered in her eyes as she turned back to look at him. Almost before he had time to register it, it was gone. "N-Nothing," she finally managed. "It was just a-a momentary bad feeling." She let out a shaky laugh. "Perhaps it was only a lingering memory of a dream." But she didn't look convinced at her own words, which worried Ronon more than anything else.

He looked towards the city, wondering what dangers those ancient halls might still hold.

_**-THE END-**_

_If you liked "Journey to Forever," (and are intersted in knowing "what those ancient halls might still hold"), this fic has a sequel, "Shattered." I thank you so much for reading "Journey," I hope you enjoyed, and please leave me a line or two letting me know what you think!_


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